As You Wish
by LadyExcalibur2010
Summary: Mrs. Black is a widow with two rambunctious sons. Mr. Edward Masen is the tutor trying to mold the boys into respectable young gentlemen. Too bad that Mr. Masen is no gentleman himself.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Twilight or any of its characters. I make no money from any of these little stories.

Author's Note: I've read lots of stories in which Edward is Bella's employer but I've always wanted to switch things up a bit. This is the result. This story was inspired by watching The Princess Bride. Again. The plot has nothing to do with that film, but that's how the plot bunny found its way into my garden.

**As You Wish**

_**Bella's POV**_

"As you wish, ma'am," his quiet, velvet voice lingered in the air like a caress. My eyes flew up to meet his.

The words were perfectly correct and polite. They always were. But the gleam in those green eyes, that was anything but proper. I wanted to argue, but I had not the time or energy to do so. Besides, what would I say? "Please don't stare at me as if you are imagining me with my chemise off?"

For that was what I saw burning in his eyes. I felt as if he saw right through me, his piercing gaze penetrating the façade of widow and mother that I wore like a cloak. I found safety and solace in my disguise, and everything about this man threatened to rip it all away. And still, I could not resist the fantasies that danced through my mind night after night.

His lips pulled up in a slight smirk and I felt something warm and unwanted unfurl inside of me. Who was this infuriating man? And why did my hands itch to touch him whenever he was in the same room with me? What was it about him that made me think of tangled sheets, soft sighs, and the warmth of his long, hard body moving over mine?

Trying, without success, to keep the blush from staining my cheeks, I acknowledged that keeping him here was dangerous. If I had one iota of sense, I would send him packing. Two factors kept me from saying the words. One, the budget for a tutor for my boys was extremely limited and Mr. Masen was the only one who had been willing to work for such ridiculous wages. And two… Well, the second reason I didn't fire him was because I liked watching him when I knew he was unaware of my scrutiny. I liked the way his scent lingered in the air, clean and masculine, after he left a room. I liked watching him with my sons, his tawny, coppery head of unruly hair head lowered as he spoke softly to them, somehow taming the wild beasts I had birthed.

Yes, there were many reasons I kept Edward Masen around, and only one of them was logical. But that singular, respectable reason was enough to assuage my conscience. For now. Still, as attractive as the man was (and oh by God he was simply stunning to behold!), I could not fully repress my annoyance as he smirked at me in my own home, knowing full well that it was the money I'd paid him that filled his pockets, however inadequately.

"That will be all, Mr. Masen," I said coolly, dismissing him with a nod of my head.

I expected him to make some almost-improper comment; instead he returned my cool nod with one of his own, turned on his heel and left the library, closing the door quietly behind him. I released the breath I had been holding and slowly unclenched my fingers from around the arms of my chair.

My fingers twitched and ached. I hungered for what was not mine to take.

_**Edward's POV**_

I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, exhaling a shaky breath. God, what was it about her that made me want to shove her up against a wall and bury myself in her? I was more civilized than that, surely? My cock twitched and throbbed in my pants, apparently arguing the point with me.

My cock and I had barely been on speaking terms since I had seen the delectable Mrs. Black seven months ago. He insisted that nothing would do but to thrust into her repeatedly until we had fucked away this insane desire for her, while I maintained that there were proprieties to be observed and we couldn't just throw Mrs. Black across her big desk, hitch up her skirts and have at it.

As much as I wanted to.

My cock gave another throb, calling me an idiot, no doubt. I could not disagree. So instead I took another deep breath and imagined my grandmother's face, the small corpse of a dead puppy that had been run over by a carriage, and finally, the coup-de-grace, my brother's face when I had happened upon him in the barn, his hands up the servant girl's skirt.

Yes, that did the trick.

I squared my shoulders and went off to search for the two hellions who were in my charge. I made my way up the stairs, knowing that I was getting close to the object of my search when I heard a series of thumps and then boyish giggles. This boded absolutely no good, as I knew from hard experience. I could only imagine the destruction currently taking place. I opened the door carefully, even looking up to make sure that no pail of water waited for the unsuspecting. It was an old trick, practically a classic. So far the boys had stuck with the tried and true, which I had been clever enough to evade, much to their chagrin. I had the advantage of course. My brothers and I had been masters of mischief, and that was one of the best weapons I had when dealing with Alex and Aaron Black.

I had already committed all of the naughty pranks they had so far conceived, though as intelligent as the boys were I had no doubt that one day they would catch me off guard and surprise me.

I was almost looking forward to it, though I suspected it might prove painful. Still, I could almost smile as I imagined the look of triumph in their dark eyes as they got the advantage over Mr. Masen, their tutor and, by definition at least, the bane of their existence.

"Well now," I said in a quiet voice. "I thought I heard two naughty little boys up here, but I must be mistaken."

There was a snort of laughter, quickly stifled. Ah, that would be Alex. Of the two, it was Alex who was more open and demonstrative. He reminded me of Mrs. Black…Bella. I could only imagine what Bella would be like, freed of the restrictions that she felt society placed on her.

Oh, that was not the right direction at all for my thoughts, I mused with a groan. Emmett, grandmother…dead puppies. All right then, mission accomplished.

"That's really too bad," I said as I surveyed the room. I knew exactly where the boys were hiding. They were not yet masters of concealment. Thank God. "I was hoping to find Alex and Aaron Black, as their mother sent me to inform the young masters that the cook has just finished baking a fresh batch of sugar cookies." I sighed deeply. "Oh well, I suppose I can enjoy the cookies on my own."

And that was all it took for Alex to come barreling out of the wardrobe and wrap his tiny arms around my knees. Aaron, predictably, followed more slowly, his expression contained though I could identify the gleam of anticipation in his eyes. The boys each had a voracious appetite, and especially for sweets.

Alex stepped back and leaned back to look at me. "Are you serious? Mrs. Kendall made cookies?" His dark eyes, a mirror image of his twin's, held mine. They were slowly learning to trust me, with Alex leading the way. Aaron preferred to withhold his final approval, and sometimes I wondered if he suspected that I had designs on his mother.

The boys were uncommonly bright, but that was to be expected.

"Would I lie to you?' I asked Alex with a smile, but my question was sincere. He seemed to recognize that too and tilted his head in thought.

"No," Alex finally answered. "I don't think you would."

"Good, then let us go to the kitchen and sample Mrs. Kendall's miraculous cookies."

Alex slipped his hand in mine, but I knew better than to offer my other hand to Aaron. He walked sedately at my side, accepting but not enthusiastic about my presence in their lives.

That was fine. I was patient. And I knew that the way to Mrs. Black's heart – and her bed – was to simply be there for these boys that somehow I had grown to love though that was the last thing I had expected when I accepted the position as their tutor. They were wild and incorrigible in the way of boys who had had no father in their lives for too long. They were exasperating and exhausting, and yet, I could not imagine a life without them. Because I loved them, it was as simple as that.

Almost as much as I loved their mother.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**II**

_**Bella's POV**_

I closed the account books with a sigh of relief. I have managed to keep destitution at bay for another few months. Ten years ago, if anyone had told my sixteen-year old self that I would one day be a widow with two boys and responsible for keeping not only us, but several servants, in food and lodging I would have run screaming into the night as if the hounds of hell were chasing me.

Sixteen year old Isabella Swan had been an innocent in so many ways. And then William Black had approached my father with an offer of marriage for me. Though they presented themselves as being descended from a noble Spanish family, there were whispers that their dark skin and flashing black eyes were the result of an Indian heritage. This made Jacob Black slightly less attractive on the marriage market, despite his obvious good looks and apparent wealth. My mother and father were still thrilled with the offer. They had been quite sure that their distressing financial situation would come to light before they had gotten me safely married off. They did not question too much, which was probably their first mistake if they were truly seeking to enrich the family coffers by offering me to a man with money.

Less than two weeks later, I found myself exchanging lifelong vows with a young man I'd only talked to four times, and all of those occasions had been within the week before my marriage.

No one ever asked me if I particularly _wanted_ to marry Jacob Black. To be honest, it had never occurred to me to make any objections. He was just a few years older than I was, and my friends all told me how lucky I was. He was handsome, if somewhat frightening in his stature and the heavy muscles that banded his huge arms. He was not unkind; he just simply didn't seem very interested in me.

I was a means to an end, I suppose. Except my parents tricked him; not that his father was any better. Each of our families expected an increase in their financial circumstances, and both had been bitterly disappointed. My father's creditors had been no less angered at the Blacks' lack of resources than my father himself. Of course, the Blacks had not been pleased when I brought them nothing but my own person and the small dowry that, they had been quite sure, was just the tip of the iceberg.

So we lived with his father and I listened to Mr. Black complain every day how much I was costing them. My arrival necessitated the hiring of a lady's maid, as appearances must be kept up, as I was told time and time again. And of course there was the simple matter of feeding and clothing me. I knew quite well that I did not eat nearly as much as my giant of a husband, but I still felt apologetic. I would have been glad to make do with a few simple frocks, but the need to be attired appropriately to "our station" was drilled into me, not only by Mr. Black but by my disappointed mother.

I was dressed in mouthwatering creations that showcased the very attributes that had brought me to Mr. Black's attention and yet which seemed to attract Jacob only sporadically. Still, my life was no worse than so many other women. I was determined to make do, to survive, even to find some small kernel of happiness in the existence that was mine.

And then came the boys. My angels, though I should hardly call them angels now, I did think they were angelic when they were babies. Black-eyed imps is what they were now, but I would not change them for the world, industrious in their mischief as they are.

Strangely, Jacob, who was an indifferent husband at best, was a loving father. He doted on our boys, and if I had any regret it was that Jacob had not lived to see them become men. Jacob fell from his horse and broke his neck just one week after the boys turned six. For two years, I had tried to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table.

It had been a guilty relief when William Black died just a few months after Jacob. One less mouth to feed, true, but even more importantly I did not have to face his dark accusing eyes every day at the table, knowing that he wished it was me who had died and not his son.

Finally, after the boys had gotten into trouble just one time too many, I realized that I would have to hire someone to get them in hand. We lived too far away from town to send them to school, and I had neither the resources nor the inclination to send them away to school. So a tutor it was.

My search began, but financial difficulties hindered it. Then, like a gift from heaven (or perhaps from the devil himself), Mr. Edward Masen had walked into my life (and my dreams) and accepted the position. His voice was sin and honey, his eyes a jade fire that made me tingle in places I could never mention. His long fingers made me imagine unspeakable things.

I could hear the boys giggling in the kitchen with Mr. Masen and I closed my eyes and imagined, just for a moment, that I could walk into that room and put my hand on Mr. Masen's shoulder, place a tender kiss of wifely appreciation on his unruly hair, and that he would turn and look up at me with adoration.

It would never, ever happen.

_**Edward's POV**_

The cookies disappeared with the expected enthusiasm. Alex had already consumed three by the time Aaron had carefully situated himself at the table and poured a glass of milk, still warm and fresh from the cow. While Alex began slowing down, Aaron ate steadily. The boys were a joy to watch and I studied them carefully.

The boys were twins, identical in appearance though their temperaments were vastly different. Aaron was the firstborn, by seventeen-and-a-half minutes, as he had informed me solemnly during our first meeting. He lorded those minutes over Alex with ruthless glee and more than once I had found the boys scuffling on the floor, small fists flying while Aaron taunted his "younger" brother. I was always reminded of Emmett and Jasper, who would battle over the scant year in their ages with the enthusiasm and ferocity of the Crusaders and Infidels. I was older than either of them, and usually tried to appear scornful of their antics. Of course, Father had much higher expectations of me, so I was careful to avoid being punished. One did not ever want to disappoint my father. I had learned that lesson the hard way.

Now I watched as both boys eyed the last cookie on the plate. I could see a fight brewing and rather than break up another fisticuff, I snatched the last cookie for myself and smirked at them. Alex, predictably, giggled. Aaron would have liked to roll his eyes at me, but had been taught better manners than that. Still, I could see the temptation in those dark eyes. I winked at him and he allowed himself a slight smile.

From Aaron that was something.

"All right then boys," I said, brushing off my hands. "Help Mrs. Kendall clear the mess and then we will meet in the classroom." I leaned in close. "It's time for arithmetic, you know."

Aaron looked pleased at the idea, arithmetic was his favorite subject. Alex groaned and his face fell. He preferred art and music, but would tolerate languages and writing. He was emotion and feeling, while young Aaron was logic and reason. I wanted to hug Alex close and tell him that I hated arithmetic too, but that was not my place.

They were not _my_ sons; this was a fact of which I reminded myself several times a day. Just as I had no claim on Mrs. Black. Alex heaved a sigh of resignation and carried his plate to the sink; Aaron followed him with a gloating smile. Anything which displeased Alex usually pleased Aaron; such was the way of brothers as I knew quite well myself.

Within a few minutes we were settled into the classroom and the boys were carefully writing down the problems I had displayed on the blackboard. Aaron's writing was neat and tidy and orderly, Alex's numbers would be less so, for he tended to hurry through assignments he did not care for. I repressed a sigh, knowing that I would have to scold him for his impatience.

And he would nod solemnly, his big, black eyes meeting mine in rueful apology. It might have been very heartrending if I didn't know we would have the exact same discussion tomorrow. Alex had very good intentions, but his own nature tended to get in the way of them. Strangely, I found his antics endearing rather than annoying.

While the boys worked, I allowed my mind to drift in dangerous directions. Mrs. Black untying her bonnet, a common enough sight. But then in my daydreams, she smiled shyly at me and reached up to pull the pins from her long, chestnut hair. I could see the sun glinting off the alluring hints of red in that dark waterfall. I would bury my hands in it, winding the silk of it around my fingers and pulling her in closer…closer…and then my mouth would cover hers and I would tell her secret that I had been holding in my heart since the moment I saw her.

"You are mine, Bella, only mine…"

It would never, ever happen.

_Author's Note: I use the word "Indian" in this post because that would have been the term used at that time. Native American would have not have been coined yet. _


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

**Bella's POV**

The boys have been settled into the beds, and must have finally fallen asleep because all of the thumping and laughter overhead died out almost half an hour ago. Despite their mischievous natures, they are easy children to love. Of course, I realized that I was prejudiced. Still, it seemed to me that even the servants doted on them. And perhaps Mr. Masen as well…

I pushed that thought aside, though it proved far more stubborn than was comfortable for me. I sighed and rested back against my chair, letting the cheerful crackle of the fire and the heat of the flames lull me into a relaxed state. It felt so good to lay down my burdens at the end of a long day, even if the reprieve is temporary. There are days when the loneliness was crushing, but the nights were still the worst.

Soon, I'd work up the courage to make my way upstairs and settle into the lonely bed that would be cold and vast and empty. Yes, the nights were always the hardest.

To put off that pain, I remained in the study. The windows were still open because the weather has been mild, though the night air still had a slight bite to it. I shivered and put my hands out to the fire, growing still as I realized that I heard a sound outside.

Anything unexpected is potentially dangerous, so I carefully got to my feet and made my way to the window, twitching aside the curtain to peer outside.

There was danger, that was most definite.

Mr. Masen was standing outside, gently illuminated by the moonlight, his jacket discarded, and his shirt open and unbuttoned enough so that I could see the dark shadows of the hair on his chest. It was wondrously strange to me, as the only adult male chest I had seen so exposed was my husband's, and his was a bare expanse of russet flesh, heavily roped with muscle, intimidating to a young girl. Even fully clothed, I was able to discern that Mr. Masen was slimmer than was my husband, but now the overall impression was one of lithe grace and subtle strength rather than any lack of power.

My mouth grew dry and a little gasp escaped me. I was afraid he had become aware of my scrutiny, as he grew still and quiet, his eyes roaming the open country around him. Strangely, he never turned toward the house. Then he gave a small shrug and I watched as he lit a cigar.

The scent of it drifted toward me on the night wind and I sniffed appreciatively. It was an intensely masculine aroma, and my palms grew sweaty as they clutched at my skirts. I held onto those bits of cloth like a lifeline, though it took every bit of will power I had not to run outside to stand beside him, linking my arm through his and look up at that solitary moon together. I could almost feel the strength of his shoulder as I leaned by head against it.

I sighed and turned away from the temptation that Mr. Masen presented. Aside from his extraordinary beauty, there was something about Mr. Masen that called out to me, made me forget all of the hard lessons that life had taught me. Desire was dangerous, only cool, hard logic and reason could protect me. I would be sensible, the sensible and respectable Mrs. Black – widow and mother.

The breeze picked up, flowing through the window and I felt my hair move with the wind. For just a moment, I was young and carefree again, running through the fields near my home, having escaped my mother's care. I remembered laughing so much as a girl, finding humor and joy in the simplest of things.

If only…

Dreams were such useless things, so I ruthlessly tucked mine away.

**Edward's POV**

The night was cool but invigorating. The boys were asleep at last, though I was fairly certain that there would some clean up required in the morning. I had distinctly heard the crack of wood as the boys carried on. And then the giggling. That was almost surely a sign of mischief managed. I shook my head and grinned as I heaved a sigh. The day had gone well, with Alex and Aaron at least. The elusive Mrs. Black had been as reserved and proper as ever.

She always looked so prim in her bland gowns of dove grey and steel blue, and not to neglect the always familiar black. It was easy to forget just how young she had to be when one observed her in her starched, high necked gowns, her hair tugged and tortured into submission, her face set in lines of grim fatigue and worry. Even her shoes were sensible, black laced-up boots that were remarkably ugly in their plainness. It worried me that I thought so much about her little feet, perhaps graced instead by fashionable little boots with pointed toes and daring heels, laced up with ribbons instead of plain laces.

Oh yes, those delicate feet would be set off to perfection. Often, I imagined her in nothing much more than the delicate footwear I wished to give her. I tried to push the thought away, knowing it would only lead to discomfort for myself. Looking down, I realized it was too late. I would have to find some relief tonight.

I had been doing so with more frequency than I had done even when I was a teenaged boy, just discovering the marvelous joys of my sexuality. Privacy was available, though not plentiful, but I managed. Even here. Even in Mrs. Black's home.

Behind me, I heard a small gasp. It seemed I was not alone in my restlessness tonight.

Ah, Mrs. Black. I wondered what had distressed her, if perhaps the accounts had been less than hoped. She would be in her study, having just finished with the books and weary at the end of a long day. How I longed to soothe away the marks of worry, that line between her brows that appeared when she was particularly fretful or preoccupied. Her little mannerisms were becoming clearer to me with each passing day in her presence. The restless flutter of her hands when she was nervous, the way she would clutch them together as soon as she became aware of the motion. The soft sigh she would give as she closed the account books, a putting away of a distasteful but necessary chore that had been accomplished. I knew that when she brought her delicate hands to her neck that she had been sitting still for too long and I wanted to rub the muscles that pained her, hear her moan softly as the pain became pleasure. And then there was that bottom lip!

Oh the fantasies that little bit of flesh had ignited in my feverish mind!

Sometimes, when she did not think I was aware of it, she would worry that plump lower lip with her little white teeth. Usually I had to go through my grandmother-Emmett-dead puppy litany several times in order to remain decent around her. Every time I saw those teeth chewing at that lip I wanted to suck it into my mouth so that I could bite it _for_ her.

I closed my eyes and let the sounds of the night carry me to my most cherished fantasy. Mrs. Bl… _ Bella_ would sneak up behind me and wrap her arms around my waist. And I would tease her and call her Sarah or Maria or even Mrs. Kendall – she would laugh and then give me a playful pinch as punishment. Then I would turn and gather her into my arms and rest my chin upon her dark, silken hair. It would be loose and cascading down her shoulders in preparation for us to retire to our bed. I would delve my hands into it as I brought my lips to hers and she would sigh sweetly, surrendering her body to me with joy.

I would carry her up the stairs and kick open the bedroom door. We would laugh and stop for a moment to make sure we had not woken the boys. Then Bella would giggle, covering her mouth as her eyes watched me latch the door. We would not want to be disturbed. I would shrug off my shirt and she would dance to the other side of the room, giving me a teasing glance over her shoulder as she began to undo the thirty-seven buttons that ran up the front of her gown.

Leaning against the door, I would watch her carefully, counting the buttons as they slid free of the fabric. On the last one, she would give her shoulders a little shake and the bodice of her dress would fall, freeing her alabaster flesh to my hot gaze. Then the skirt, a quick tug and the fastening would be untied and it too, would slip free of her body. Then nothing but the fine lawn of her chemise would be in my way and I would be able to see her rosy nipples pebbling in anticipation.

I would growl when her hands moved to take away that barrier and she would swallow hard, knowing I meant to remove _that_ myself. I would stalk toward her, holding out my hand. "You know what you want, Bella," I would murmur, putting every bit of passion and lust I felt into my words. My voice would be low and husky with want and her breath would quicken, the blood rushing to paint her cheeks with alluring color.

"I want you," she would answer with a shy smile.

And the absolute aching need would unfurl inside of me and I would grab her to me, perhaps rougher than I intended but she would relish it, moaning as she clutched me to her with equal fervor. "Edward," her soft voice would echo in our bedroom. "Take me…"

With an abrupt groan, stifled and stilled by biting my own lip, I threw my cigar to the ground and stomped on it with my boot. _If only…_

It was a useless dream, just another way to torture myself.

I pushed it away and retired to my solitary bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

_**Bella's POV**_

It was morning. At last. I sighed as I pushed aside the crumpled sheets. They were twisted around me, slightly damp with my sweat. I had had the dream. Again. I hated that I dreamt of him. He was there every waking moment, a ghost that loitered just at the edges of my awareness even when he was not in the same room.

Now he was in my dreams as well, slipping in and out of them as if he belonged there – as if he had every right to inhabit them. It seemed that I could not escape the intriguing Mr. Masen no matter how hard I tried. I groaned as I got to my feet. My entire body thrummed with unrelieved tension. I had endured enough mornings to recognize that what flowed through my body right now was lust – plain and simple.

I kept my ablutions simple. Even the touch of the cleansing cloth against my core made me hiss. I was throbbing, aching…empty. I pushed the thought away. I had too many people relying on me to allow my lurid fantasies to entice me into acting recklessly. I was a widow, and while I should have had more freedom than I had had as the innocent daughter of a prominent family, I was no less a prisoner of my life than I had been before Jacob Black.

Mr. Masen was as untouchable to me as ever.

I looked out the window and watched the sun rising over the mountains in the distant. It would be a beautiful day it seemed. The sun was shimmering with promise and I could already hear the songs of the birds as they greeted the new day. I closed my eyes briefly and tried to picture Jake's face. It was becoming less clear with every day, fuzzy and indistinct. He had been my husband and the only man to share my bed; he was the father of my sons. Surely I owed him more loyalty than this mindless lusting over the man who was educating our boys?

Squaring my shoulders, I resolved to keep thoughts of Mr. Masen and his charms completely repressed. My first and most important duty was to my sons. It was my job to keep them safe and clothed and sheltered, to provide for their every need including their education. Mr. Masen was simply a means to that end – nothing more or less. I would not let my own foolishness and loneliness push me to ruin.

Resolutely, I opened my door and prepared to face the day.

Immediately upon entering the hallway, a small blur crashed into my legs. It would have to be Alex, of course. I looked down to see his bright, dark eyes smiling at me and once more I was overwhelmed with how much I loved them. They had been my saving grace, the light that kept me sane and whole. I wrapped my arms around him and looked past him to where I knew Aaron would be approaching at a more sedate pace, his expression both patient and chagrined. Sure enough, there he was, rolling his eyes slightly as his brother's boisterousness. He took his role as the "big" brother quite seriously and always strove to set a positive example for Alex. That example, I feared, was in vain. And I would not have it any other way. I loved their unique personalities and would not change either of them for any treasure on this earth.

Soon I was enfolding a reluctant Aaron into my embrace. He had recently started to feel that pinch that a mother's affection can sometimes cause in boys as they grow older. He was more mature than Alex, so it was not surprising that it would be Aaron who found his mother's hugs embarrassing first. I sighed and released him far sooner than I would have liked, knowing that this too was simply a part of growing up. I smiled sadly as I envisioned the many years stretching out before me during which the boys would endure my affections with grim forbearance, protesting if there were witnesses. Then they would be come men and my hugs and kisses would once more be welcomed. At least, I hoped so.

Then I made the mistake of looking up to see Mr. Masen stalking up the hallway behind the boys. Once more, I was struck by the thought that he glided like a predator, skulking through the forest. It always made me feel vulnerable, as if I should keep watch over my shoulder. I should not have been surprised to see him. I knew that he shared breakfast with the boys, keeping a careful eye on them so that they did not torment Mrs. Kendall too much. "Mr. Masen," I greeted him coolly, congratulating myself on remaining true to my resolve to ignore the warmth he generated deep inside of me. I could almost pretend that my undergarments were not damp.

A wicked gleam appeared in his green eyes as he studied me, as if he knew about the state of my unmentionables, but his nod and murmured "Good morning, Mrs. Black," were completely proper. I told myself that I had misinterpreted that glint in his eyes.

Then I caught sight of myself in the mirror as I followed behind them and a fire bloomed in my cheeks. I had missed a button and I could see the soft, white cotton of my chemise in the gap. Hastily, I rectified my error, my cheeks hot with shame. He had seen it, and it had amused him.

The insufferable man!

**Edward's POV**

That peek of the innocent white of Mrs. Black's chemise had left me hard and aching. I adjusted myself discretely as I walked in front of the boys, Mrs. Black safely in the back. Unfortunately, I had become an expert at hiding my physical reaction to Mrs. Black. I could hear the soft swish-swish of her skirts as she walked down the stairs and the sound alone was enough to make me throb and twitch in my pants.

May the Good Lord help me, I was a slave to my own treacherous flesh. Why the sound of her voluminous skirts would arouse me so much, I had no idea. But the fact remained and it was irrefutable. Perhaps it was because the sound made me imagine the swooshing sound those skirts would make as they fell to the floor when I had her alone in that bedroom. They would fall and then she would be bared before me, clad only in her petticoats and chemise and the dark waterfall of her hair. I would enjoy slowly revealing more and more of her flesh to my avid gaze.

God, I needed to stop this immediately!

Breakfast was a quiet affair, with the boys gulping down eggs and bacon and biscuits so quickly that I was shocked they did not choke. They knew I would eat more slowly, having no desire to die from a bit of biscuit, and they would take advantage of their few, unsupervised minutes to get into mischief. I sighed when they dashed from the table, having surprisingly remembered to carry their dishes to Mrs. Kendall. I would deal with the destruction after my meal.

"You are an uncommonly good cook, Mrs. Kendall," I complimented her. Mrs. Kendall reminded me of my mother, not a physical resemblance, but rather one of expression and kindness. She had a good heart and she genuinely loved Mrs. Black and her sons. Anyone who loved Bella and Alex and Aaron had my own devotion as well.

I looked at Mrs. Black, sipping at her tea with quiet thoughtfulness, nibbling at her toast with marmalade. She seemed preoccupied and distant this morning and I wondered if she had noticed me adjusting myself. God, I hoped not! The mortification might be enough to kill me. And I did not really want to die before I had fully tasted the charms of the reticent Mrs. Black. However, I did not think that was a proper prayer to offer up to the Lord so I remained silent on the matter. Surely He would understand that my feelings for Mrs. Black were entirely honorable. Well, _mostly_ honorable. My favorite fantasy of bending Mrs. Black over her big desk flashed through my mind and before I allowed myself to proceed to flipping her skirts up, I quickly excused myself and went to the classroom.

The boys provided a much needed diversion as Aaron had talked Alex into attempting to crawl across the beam that spanned the room and Alex had gotten stuck on top of an armoire that held supplies. Alex always forgot that he hated heights until it was too late. I sighed as I rescued him, too grateful for the diversion to scold them as properly as I should.

The rest of the morning was no less a disaster than the start had been. We began by discussing the Trojan War, and I soon found myself imagining Mrs. Black wrapped in the revealing garments of the time. Not much would be left to the imagination, I mused. The glowing, pale flesh of her shoulders would be revealed to my hungry eyes, the scanty folds of the cloth would press against her limbs as she walked, and if I was lucky, I might see the shadow of –

I had to stop right there, biting back my groan as the boys stared at me curiously. Damn. I had really anticipated that my attraction to Mrs. Black would grow less distracting as time went on, instead it seemed to be picking up in intensity and frequency. If it kept up at this pace, I would be forced to pay a visit to town and engage the services of an amenable female companion, as much as the thought disgusted me. My own hand was proving to be of little help in the matter.

The day plodded on, with me attempting to do my job while unwelcomed and inconvenient fantasies of Mrs. Black interrupted me. The boys sensed my disturbance and were not above taking advantage of it. I finally surrendered to the inevitable and declared that we would take our sketch pads outside so that they could observe and record the beauties of nature. In reality, I simply wanted to give them a chance to run about and burn off some of their excess high spirits so that I could indulge in some naughty thoughts in relative peace. I decided that I was a horrible tutor and if I had any pride at all I would quit my post, return to my family home and beg for my father's forgiveness.

Instead, I merely followed the boys, keeping them from the worst of disaster and finally forcing them to sit down and actually sketch. I was afraid to open my own sketch pad because I knew what sort of images would end up on those pristine, blank pages and they were not the sort that any child should see of their mother. So I sat and suffered.

I was both disappointed and relieved when Mrs. Black took her noon meal in the study. The correspondence had arrived and she was usually engaged with that for several hours. Then it was time for dinner, lessons being mercifully concluded, and Mrs. Black still had not emerged from her study. I sent the boys upstairs to begin their nighttime routine and reveled in the silence for a moment. But Mrs. Black remained in the study.

That was most definitely not the usual pattern. "Mrs. Kendall?" I asked at last. "Is Mrs. Black feeling well? I have not seen her since breakfast and I have noticed that she has not emerged from the study and she usually…" I let my words trail off, somewhat embarrassed that I had let it slip that I was aware of Mrs. Black's habits.

But Mrs. Kendall gave me a look of concern in return and that made my heart beat a bit faster. Now I was truly growing concerned. Mrs. Kendall shook her head. "She got the post this morning and I haven't seen her since," she confirmed.

I frowned at that bit of news. "Was there anything that might have been a cause for… _concern_?" I was well aware of Mrs. Black's financial difficulties; my own salary reflected that quite glaringly. Creditors could get nasty if pushed, but I had not thought that affairs had progressed to that point. Not yet at any rate.

Mrs. Kendall appeared thoughtful for a moment and then she shrugged. "I don't rightly know, Mr. Masen. There seemed to be the usual." Then her expression cleared. "And a letter from her home, of course. But that was all."

I nodded and pretended to dismiss the matter, but as soon as Mrs. Kendall was occupied with other things I tip-toed down the hallway and stood at the closed door of the study, listening intently. I heard nothing for a moment, but then I detected the soft, muffled sounds of crying.

My beautiful Bella was weeping.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I knocked quietly on the door. "Mrs. Black?"

Nothing but silence.

"I've sent the boys along to bed, told them I'd be along in a moment to hear their prayers." This was usually Mrs. Black's job and I had told them no such thing – yet. But I would. It was a lie only by its timing.

Still nothing.

"Mrs. Black, is there anything I can get for you? Some more tea? More firewood?" _May I hold you in my arms, Bella? Perhaps I may comfort you while you cry? Might I kiss the tears from your soft, lovely cheeks?_

I heard the sounds of movement at last, and just for a moment I feared I had spoken my forbidden thoughts aloud. Then the door opened and I could do nothing more than stare at her. Mrs. Black's eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks pale, her hands trembling. I took a deep breath and was shocked to catch the scent of brandy on her breath. I had never known Mrs. Black to indulge in alcohol.

Then I saw the letter that had fallen to the floor. I saw the tear stains that made the black ink run in ugly rivulets over the paper. "Mrs. Black?" I asked softly in my most soothing voice. I felt as if I was approaching a horse that had not yet been broken, a wild creature that would soon run into peril merely to escape the blinding fear of being cornered.

Carefully, slowly I wrapped my hands around her upper arms and I felt her shudder. "What is wrong, Mrs. Black?" I was growing more frantic with every passing moment.

She blinked as if she had not noticed I was there until that very instant. Her head lolled on her fragile neck and I could see that she had undone the top two buttons of her dress. A white chemise peeked out at me, but for once my body did not harden in response. I was too scared to be aroused.

"They're gone," she whispered. "They're gone."

"Who is gone?" I asked in a low voice, still seeking to soothe her. "Where did they go?"

She sighed deeply and I felt her body tremble with it. The sigh turned into a sob and before I could question the wisdom of it, I had enfolded her into my embrace, tucking her up against me as I had longed to do for so long. "My parents," she whispered into my chest, her hot breath warming my flesh even through my vest and shirt and coat. "They're dead. They're dead." She looked up at me, her lovely brown eyes lost and unfocused. "I'm alone now. All alone…"

Then she collapsed against me.


	5. Chapter 5

I don't own these characters and I make no money from my scribblings.

**V**

_**Bella's POV**_

I became conscious of my surroundings very slowly, as if delaying the pain of full awareness. In the distance, I could hear the steady tick-tick-tick of the old clock that had been in the Black family for three generations now. I heard the muffled voices of Mrs. Kendall and Mr. Masen in the hallway. I could even discern the subdued voices of my sons, asking about me with evident concern. Then I heard Mr. Masen's calm, reassuring voice soothing the fears of Alex and Aaron. I relaxed, knowing that he had them well in hand and would not let them worry overmuch. Mr. Masen had been a godsend for the boys.

However, I could only avoid the events of the morning for so long.

With agonizing clarity, the details of the day bloomed in my mind. Looking through the post, picking up the letter with an unfamiliar hand. I had known. I had known the moment I took that letter in my hand with its unknown handwriting but my hometown name scrawled in the corner.

_Mrs. Jacob Black._

That was me. Wasn't it? Sometimes I was not sure. I did not feel like the wife – no, the _widow_ – of Jacob Black. I felt as if he was a stranger to me, a figure in a story that had nothing to do with me. It seemed impossible that I had taken his name, lain beneath him in this very bed, and created two children with him. Because in this moment, Jake did not exist. I was merely Bella Swan again – a lonely, somewhat shy girl who had loved her parents no matter how little we had in common. And now they were gone. Forever.

Until I had read the words – _a house fire…both of them tragically lost…the house destroyed…every effort was made…offer my sincere condolences for your terrible loss…settle their affairs at a later date_ – I had not realized how much I had been counting on them. It was finally clear to me that – somewhere deep in the most secret recesses of my mind – I had always thought that the boys and I would have a home to go back to if we lost everything here. My parents were not perfect, and they would not have been overly joyous to find themselves responsible for their daughter and grandsons, but they would have lived up to their familial obligations. Their position in society alone would have guaranteed that.

It was not that they did not love me. I knew they had. But I had recognized long ago that Renee was too caught up in her society commitments to do much more than make sure I was behaving properly, as a young lady should, to be too involved in the life of a daughter. I had been a disappointment since the day of my birth, after all. I was not the longed-for son, and my birth had ruined any chance of future children. Their bitterness always tainted their regard for me, but that was a pain I had long ago learned to endure. It had been especially hard for my mother, who had felt keenly her failure to provide my father with a son to carry on the name. He had been the last Swan. There would never be another.

My father… Oh, I would miss him. Or maybe I would miss the idea of him more since it was true that I had not actually seen my father since Jake died. They had shown up a week after the funeral, given me perfunctory expressions of sympathy and my mother had made it quite clear that I was on my own. I had a roof over my head and was in no danger of imminent starvation, so she considered the matter closed.

My father, however, had pressed a handful of bills into my hand one evening, leaning down to whisper, "Don't tell your mother." That was all. But it was much coming from Charles Swan. He never said five words when two would do, and his taciturn nature was practically the stuff of legends in the town where I had grown up. Somehow, merely knowing that he was there, I had found comfort and solace.

Now, however, even that fragile bit of peace was denied me and I was truly, for the first time in my life, alone.

Except for my boys. My beloved sons. Those holy terrors that I adored beyond all reason. Thoughts of my sons brought to mind their tutor. My cheeks flamed red as I recalled collapsing in his arms. I had been vaguely aware of the gentle motion of his body as he carried me effortlessly up the stairs.

I had not been so insensate that I had not been aware of the hard muscles that cradled me, or of the broad chest against which I rested. The coats and vests and shirts were hiding a very masculine form, slender and yet very well muscled. His strength was sleek and predatory, and –

What kind of woman was I?

My parents had just died and once more I found my thoughts wandering off in dangerous and forbidden directions. I could not completely banish the sensation of being in his arms, however briefly. Was it so wrong to want _not_ to be lonely, if only for a moment?

I had felt…safe and cherished and cared for – and for once, not alone. Now, my loneliness became a living thing, a beast that ripped and tore at my flesh, my soul. I had visions of Mr. Masen, standing tall and proud before that beast, ready to conquer it in my name. A useless dream, it was just another way to hurt myself. I turned into my pillow and let the tears flow once more, uncertain for what I wept.

_**Edward's POV**_

The feel of her in my arms, the warm weight of her – I knew that feeling would haunt my dreams for the rest of my life. The moment of terror when she had fainted had made my heart race, but even that had been nothing to the sensation of my heart thundering against my ribs at feeling her fragile body in my arms as I raced up the stairs to her bedroom. Kicking the door open as I called for Mrs. Kendall, I mused with no little sense of irony that this was not exactly how I had envisioned taking Mrs. Black to her bedroom for the first time.

Then she moaned a little and I settled her carefully on the bed, taking in the contrast of her dark blue dress against the seemingly endless expanse of pristine white of the bed covers. Because she was still unaware and because I was alone with her, I took the unforgiveable liberty of letting my hand run over the dark silk of her hair. Even tortured into a tight bun, it was breathtaking to behold. But the feel of it! It was silk and fire and temptation. I longed to pull every single pin from her hair and watch it tumble over her shoulders, creating a dark curtain to shelter us as we kissed.

I heard Mrs. Kendall in the hallway and took a step back, my hand still tingling from the exquisite feeling of Mrs. Black's hair. Then Mrs. Kendall was sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing Mrs. Black's hands in her own. "Mrs. Black," she whispered urgently. There was no response and I felt my breath lodge in my throat. "_Isabella_," Mrs. Kendall finally said with more force and volume.

I looked at Mrs. Kendall in surprise. She looked over her shoulder at me, her expression somewhat embarrassed at the impropriety, but no apology in her face. "I've been with Mrs. Black since she was a girl," she explained simply.

Suddenly her care and affection for Bella and the boys made much more sense. She truly loved Mrs. Black. "I didn't know," I murmured, but Mrs. Kendall's eyes were already back on Mrs. Black.

"Isabella," Mrs. Kendall leaned down and whispered in her ear. "I'm here, my darling. You're safe." Bella moaned and stirred just a bit, her eyelids fluttering open for a moment and then closing again. Mrs. Kendall heaved a sigh of relief. "She'll be fine, just swooned, I imagine."

I nodded, clearing my throat uncomfortably. "She got bad news…from home."

Mrs. Kendall closed her eyes briefly, her lips moving swiftly. It seemed to me that she was praying, and knowing how devout she was that would be a most logical conclusion. "Her father?" she finally asked.

"I'm not quite certain, though from what I could understand both of her parents…died."

Mrs. Kendall gave a small moan and shook her head. "The poor lamb," she muttered and then her hands were dexterously moving through Bella's lovely hair, pulling the pins from it as I had longed to do. My fingers twitched at my sides and I had to restrain the impulse to push Mrs. Kendall aside and take over the task myself.

The sight of all that dark hair spread out on the pale backdrop of the pillow made me swallow hard and I had to turn away. No man but her husband should see Mrs. Black in such an personal way, but I knew the memory of it was seared into my head, no matter how little right I had to it. I could only imagine the lurid fantasies that such an intimate sight would inspire and I knew I had to excuse myself before I did something of which I would forever be ashamed. Clearly, I was an animal who should not be admitted to decent company.

"I must go tend to the boys," I muttered and turned on my heel. I was almost to the door when Mrs. Kendall's voice stopped me.

"Thank you, Mr. Masen," she said quietly. I nodded without looking at her, because if I did I was quite sure that all of the pent up longings I harbored for Mrs. Black would be quite evident in my eyes and she would see me for the low, pathetic creature that I was. "What will you tell the boys?" she asked.

I barely looked over my shoulder, studiously avoiding the sight of that dark cloud of silk on the pillow. Swallowing hard yet again, I noticed that I could see the embroidery at the neckline of the chemise that Mrs. Black wore. Perhaps her own slender hands had wrought the design. I could picture her sitting by the fire, the fine lawn of the chemise clutched in her hands, the clever wink of the needle as her skilled fingers moved the needle in and out of the fabric. All the bright colors taking form as delicate buds and blooms, the soft green of leaves twined about the neck, giving a frame to the perfect ivory flesh above.

My own fingers twitched yet again as I forced down the temptation to trace the lines of the delicate flowers and then up to the delicate collarbones... "I will just tell them that their mother is tired and resting now." I shrugged. "It's not my place to tell them anything else."

Mrs. Kendall paused for a moment and then sighed. "Yes, I suppose that is for the best. I'm sure that Isa – Mrs. Black will want to tell them about their grandparents herself." She gave a small humph that was most unexpected. "Not that they had much to do with the boys anyway. They haven't seen them since just after their father died."

A million questions clamored within me, pressing against my lips as I remained quiet only by sheer will. I wanted to know everything about Mrs. Black. Had she loved Jacob Black? Why was she not closer to her parents? Why had they not helped her after her husband died? These were things of which one did not speak with the hired help so I had no way of knowing what had led Mrs. Black to her current situation.

And that was what I was, merely a man hired to educate her sons.

I had no right to hope for anything else. I nodded once more at Mrs. Kendall and excused myself, trying to ignore the pain in my chest as I considered all of the things I must never, ever dream of again.


	6. Chapter 6

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**VI**

**Bella's POV**

I woke up as sunlight streamed into my room. There was too much of it, and it came in from the wrong angle. I had overslept and there was no telling what chaos had descended with my unplanned tardiness. I was already sitting up in my head, bemoaning the fact that I had neglected to braid my hair as was my usual custom and would thus be forced to tame my hair with more force than usual when I realized that my head was throbbing like a bad tooth.

For a moment it puzzled me. My belly did not ache with my monthly cycle, and that was usually the only time my head throbbed. Then I remembered. The ache in my head was what prompted the memory. They were dead. My parents. Gone. I was alone…except for the boys. And Mrs. Kendall. And perhaps, Mr. Masen? No, I must immediately dismiss that notion.

At this moment, there was only one man I should hold dear in my thoughts.

I realized that never again would I be enfolded in my father's embrace, smell that unique combination of peppermint and pipe tobacco that seemed to be the embodiment of Charles Swan. It was difficult to believe that he was gone forever. I had always seen my father as larger than life, bigger than the mundane things of this troubled world.

But in the end, he had been nothing more than fragile flesh and bone, created from Adam's rib like the rest of mankind. I felt the tears threaten at the thought of never hearing his voice again, seeing his familiar handwriting on a letter. Every time I got the post, I was hopeful that there would be something from him. There usually was. Hardly ever from my mother, but as when I was a child, I hardly felt the lack.

Charles Swan made up for all of life's little hurts. Even my marriage had been contracted with my benefit in mind. His anger when we discovered that the Blacks were not as financially solvent as hoped had been because he had wanted a life of ease for _me_. Mother had been angry at her own dashed hopes, but Father… He had wept at the thought of me struggling as they did. When Jacob and I boarded the train that brought us west, Father had been bitter _for_ me.

"I never thought to lose you to one so far away, Izzy," he whispered. "And all for naught." I wondered at my mother's certain rage now that the truth had been revealed. What my father must have endured I could never know. Still, he was not the type to speak of such things. He sighed, kissing my cheek. "You are my daughter, and I am always your father. You are never alone in this world, Izzy. Never alone." He was the only one I ever allowed to call me Izzy. Everyone else addressed me by my proper Christian name, Isabella. A few knew me well enough to call me Bella. But only Father had called me Izzy. Only Father had promised me that I would never be alone.

But now I was, of course, because Father was dead.

I squared my shoulders and stood up, ignoring the weakness in my knees. Now was not the time to give into weakness. Now I had to be stronger than ever, for my boys. They had hardly known their grandparents; even William Black had been a distant figure to them, bitter and angry much of the time. Jake had protected the boys from his father's ill moods. But the boys had had very limited contact with my parents. I remembered that on their last meeting my mother had scolded the Alex for crushing her skirts. That had stopped Aaron cold, for he had been on his way to give his grandmother a dutiful embrace. She neither noticed nor missed the embrace and the boys had been just as happy to play in my parents' barn and watch the horses in the corral. Like me, they had learned to avoid my mother.

Now I had to tell them that my parents were dead. Would they realize what that meant? How could they?

I would have to make a trip back home, and I would have to take the boys. There was nothing that could cause me to leave them here alone. Perhaps Mr. Masen would consent to journey with me. I knew his family lived somewhere east. He might wish to call upon them. Then again, perhaps not. I had the sense that his relationship with them was strained at best. Either way, I meant to ask him. I wanted him to be with me, and for the first time I allowed myself to admit it.

**Edward's POV**

I escorted the boys down to break their morning fast, determined that they should not waken their mother. A hushed conference with Mrs. Kendall had reinforced my thought that Mrs. Black should be allowed to sleep as late as her body would allow. Grief and drink would have exhausted her, and she was sure to waken with an aching head. I knew she was not accustomed to drinking spirits heavily and she seemed to have indulged quite generously the night before.

Had she not been drinking due to grief, I might have enjoyed seeing her imbibe. She probably would have loosened that tight bun of hers and perhaps even undone a button or two as the night wore on and the spirits warmed her. I could imagine her with tendrils of silken hair falling about her shoulders, a glimpse of ivory flesh that never saw the kiss of the sun.

Castigating myself for my inappropriate thoughts, I listened for movement upstairs. I had been unable to bring myself to continue with the boys' lesson today, so I had given them an unanticipated and much appreciated day free from educational pursuits. They were currently climbing trees behind the house, carefully watched over by a ranch hand, Jock.

Jock was not particularly intellectually gifted, indeed one had to repeat directions several times before his dim eyes would light in comprehension. But he was fond of Alex and Aaron and would watch over them diligently, not allowing them to fall. Alex would stick to the lower branches in any case, his fear of heights hindering him until Aaron teased him. Then Alex would climb higher in order to prove he did not fear and Jock would rescue him as he had done a dozen times before.

They were good boys, even if a trifle spirited and exasperating when they took it into their heads to pursue mischief. A lifetime of dealing with Emmett and Jasper had prepared me well for my new calling in life.

At last, at almost ten in the morning, I finally heard Mrs. Black stir above stairs. Half an hour later, I heard the sound of her small boots on the stairs.

When she appeared at the foot of the stairs, her face was pale and drawn, but signs of grief were apparently only in the line between her fine, dark brows. "Mr. Masen, are the boys having lessons today?" She appeared only curious, not angry and I drew a sigh of relief.

"No, ma'am, I thought it best to let them have a day of relaxation…all things considered. They are in the orchard. Jock is watching over them at present."

"Yes, perhaps that is best," she agreed. Then she took a breath and clutched at her skirts. "Because of the…situation, I find that I must travel back home to settle my parents' affairs. I anticipate that the trip will take a month at least. Obviously, I cannot leave the boys here, even with servants."

I tried to hide my smile, because I sensed what was coming. And my answer would most definitely be yes. Never would I send Isabella off to face such hardship without accompanying her. I wanted to hold her now, to reassure her that I would never let anything hurt again. I wanted to soothe away that line on her forehead, rub away the ache in her head, and kiss her until she could no longer remember what troubled her.

"Of course," I agreed with a nod of my head.

"Yes, well…" She seemed ill at ease and I wished more than nothing to alleviate her discomfort.

"Perhaps, Mrs. Black, I might make a suggestion?" I assumed a detached air and schooled my expression to careful nonchalance and utmost respect and deference.

"Of course, Mr. Masen." A bow of that graceful dark head and I felt my heart react by speeding up its rhythm.

"Perhaps I could accompany you and the young masters," I said. "I could continue to instruct them, of course, so that they would not fall behind in their studies. " Give her an excuse to accept your invitation. "And there would be the added benefit of having another pair of eyes and hands to care for them." Remind her how rambunctious her sons can be, how difficult it would be to mind them on such a long journey by herself.

She appeared to consider my request for a long moment and then finally nodded, and I drew a breath at long last. "Yes, Mr. Masen, I do believe that you are correct." She paused. "And I thank you."

I nodded, smiling graciously. "It is my pleasure, Mrs. Black."

Her cheeks flushed lightly and she nodded once more. "I shall go to the boys and explain our trip and the reason behind it." Grief flashed in her dark eyes and I wanted to hold her close to me.

I watched her go, appreciating the subtle, graceful sway of her skirts as she walked. As I studied her, I came to a decision. I was done with denying my feelings for her. Once we were away from this place where her husband's ghost lingered, I would, at the right time, reveal my feelings to her. The timing was unfortunate, but the need to confess was burning me up inside.

"I love you, Bella…" I whispered. "Let me love you."

I had had enough of denial. I would no longer embrace my unhappiness. Instead, I would seek the joy I knew I could find with her. My soul reached out to hers, and I would no longer resist it. It was simply meant to be and I was tired of fighting fate.

Life was too short, and happiness uncertain. We must take joy where and when we could find it. I had found it. I meant to claim it.

**Bella's POV**

I walked away, feeling his eyes follow me. I had seen something new in his gaze this day. Something unyielding but not frightening to me in the least, even as I acknowledged its inevitability. He had the look of a man who has come to a difficult decision, and once the issue is decided, he knows that nothing will stop him from achieving what he sets out to do.

A part of me shivered at that new steely determination I saw in those green eyes. A tiny core of me, perhaps the instinct that God gives women, warned me that his new resolve had to do with me.

I should have been frightened or disgusted.

I should have been many things.

Instead, I feel inside of me only an answering tenacity. My parents are gone, and though that is a pain I will not lightly endure, that tragedy has also brought with it a new sense of freedom. My life is now mine to spend or squander or hoard as I saw fit. In the East, perhaps, my actions would draw more censure. But here, the rules are slightly more relaxed. Pedigrees give way to practicalities, societal niceties must make way for need.

So I let his eyes follow me. It was nothing I could act on yet. I had a distasteful duty ahead of me, and my own guilt at realizing my newfound freedom would not be lightly set aside. Still, I recognized well enough my determination. Life was, as had been proven so recently, uncertain. I had not found joy with Jacob Black, but that did not mean that such happiness was not to be found in the marital bed. I wanted more than this existence, this place of limbo between being alive and dead. I wanted to do more with my short human years than simply _be_.

I meant to find happiness – and I meant to discover if Edward Masen was the key to my joy.

I had a feeling he was.


	7. Chapter 7

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

_**Author's Note: Yes, I will finish this story. Here is the next chapter. Thank you for your astonishing patience! **_

**VII**

_**Edward's POV**_

I was exquisitely aware of Mrs. Black at my side. Behind us, the boys chattered away in the wagon. The horses were cooperating, placidly moving along, taking us closer and closer to Denver. From that city, we would take a train east. All in all, we expected our journey to take a week, if the Lord gave us favorable weather.

With Isabella at my side and the boys in the back, I felt as if they were my family. I wanted to _make_ them my family, if Mrs. Black would consent to giving me her hand in marriage. She needed me. She needed a man to help ease her burden, a father for her boys. They were strong willed and needed a male influence.

I wanted to be that influence.

I wanted to have the right to release the dark cloud of hair that was so ruthlessly tamed during the day. I wanted to unbutton every single tantalizing button on those drab gowns. I wanted to see her dress in pretty colors that would make the most of her natural beauty. I wanted to have the right to caress the soft, white skin that sometimes peeked above her bodice and to know that there was nothing to stop me from pulling the laces from her chemise and pressing soft, reverent kisses to her fragrant flesh. I wanted to cover her body with mine, to press inside of her and become a part of her. I wanted to see her body grow and change with my child. I wanted us to raise the boys and the others I hoped would come along.

I wanted everything. Forever.

Setting a steady but easy pace, I directed the wagon toward Denver. I bade Isabella to take a nap in the back and the boys sat beside me, chattering like magpies and asking a million questions that they never gave me time to answer. It struck me that I loved the boys almost as much as I loved their mother. They were bright, inquisitive, good-hearted, mischievous, and strong-willed. I wanted very much to help mold them into the men I knew they could become. I wanted to teach them to cherish the woman they married, to bring their children up with generous doses of discipline and love. I wanted to watch them grown and mature into young men who would be a help to their mother.

Today was as good a time as any to begin that process, I decided. I would make myself a part of their lives – and their mother's. I would accomplish my goal by sheer tenacity and determination, all the while showing her the tenderness she so deserved.

So the boys talked and I sometimes got a word in edgewise. Isabella napped and gained a sense of peace and restoration, knowing that her boys were in capable and loving hands. And it was good.

_**Isabella's POV**_

I pretended to sleep, listening to Edward speak with the children. Actually, he did more listening that speaking, but that only endeared him to me all the more. It was rare that a man would take the time to actually _listen_ to children. Children, for the most part, were taught to be seen and not heard. That lesson had been drilled into me often enough as a girl. I had had my knuckles rapped and my cheeks pinched painfully more times than I could count. "A lady is modest in all things, including the voicing of her opinions and thoughts," Mother had instructed me. To be fair, however, my grandmother had been a formidable woman herself and I fancied that my mother's childhood had been even more restricted than mine. I had had my father at least, to soften the edge of Mother's demands and expectations.

If he had lived, Jacob would have been a good father. He would have found the right balance between firm discipline and loving guidance. It was one of the reasons I had almost loved him for a time. Perhaps not love, but affection. When I saw him with our sons, I could forget the difficulties between us and focus on the love he had for our boys.

As I listened to the childish excitement of Alex's and Aaron's voices, I understood that they truly liked Mr. Masen, as much more than a tutor. They did not realize it yet, in their innocence, but they hungered for a father, a man to guide and love them. I knew I could delude myself into thinking that I was starting to view Mr. Masen as more than a tutor by telling myself that I wanted to give my boys a father.

But the truth of the matter was, even if I had not had the boys, I would have wanted Mr. Edward Masen.

The idea of passion, of.._.lust_, was so new to me that I was at a loss. I had not been raised with the idea that women – especially ladies – ever gave such matters any thought. We did our duty in the marriage bed for the sole purpose of procreation. My mother had never hinted in any way that I should find the process enjoyable. On the morning of my wedding, she had recited some bare facts to me, facts which had seemed too ridiculous to be real. So when Jacob had lifted my nightgown and spread my legs, I had not even thought to struggle. A few moments later and I felt a deep stabbing pain and I closed my eyes until it was all over. Jacob had seemed very satisfied. And I had decided that I would do my duty, but nothing more.

Now, however, at the sound of the deep, musical rumble of Edward's voice, I was experiencing an ache deep inside of me. It was need twisting in my belly, a desire for something I sensed I might find in his arms. What it might be exactly, I had no idea. I knew only that I wanted it. Desperately.

_**Edward's POV**_

We broke for camp that night and I took care of the horses while she tended to the boys. Then Isabella prepared a simple but tasty meal over the campfire. I had gathered wood and gotten some water from a nearby stream. The water was so cold it made my teeth ache, but it soothed the thirst that had resulted from a day on a dusty trail.

The boys were exhausted and soon after eating, their eyes began drooping and soon they were leaning against a tree, lightly snoring. Isabella took one look at them and giggled. "I suppose I should have prepared their pallets," she mused.

"I'll do it," I said, jumping to the task. I needed to move, to distract myself. The sight of Isabella in the fire light, her hair starting to tumble from its confinement, the soft pink of her lips as she licked them clean from her dinner – all of it made my body tight and tense with need.

We soon had the boys settled on a pallet, their backs touching, their small faces looking even younger in sleep. I stood up and smiled at them. "They're quite adorable like this," I observed.

"What? Asleep and silent...for once?" she teased.

I looked at her and grinned. "Something like that." I studied her delicate features and noticed a smudge of food on her cheek. One of the boys had probably done the honors, I guessed. Without thinking, I reached up and wiped it away. She looked startled for a moment. "There was something on..." I shoved my hands in my pockets. "I beg your pardon."

"No," she hastened to reassure me. "It is fine. I was just..." She looked down at her feet, still shod in her sensible little boots.

"Mrs. Black-" I began, but stopped abruptly when she looked up at me, biting her lip, obviously trying not to laugh.

"I think..." She laughed and shook her head. "I think it might be permissible for you to call me Isabella," she said. Looking around, she gave a little shrug. "I don't think the wild creatures of the forest care much about etiquette."

"All right," I agreed happily. I wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to pull her into my arms and claim her lips with mine. Then I wanted to undress her slowly and lay her down on the blankets by the fire and take her. Claim her.

An awkward silence descended and I shuffled my feet. I opened my mouth to speak but she forestalled me. "I wanted to thank you, Mr. Masen-"

"Edward," I interjected. "Please, it's only fair."

She nodded. "All right then..._Edward_," she said softly. "I wanted to thank you for accompanying me on this journey. It..." She sighed. "It means a lot to me and I wanted you to know that I am grateful."

"Thank you for allowing me to do so," I said. She gave me a tentative smile and then turned to go to her pallet. I decided that I must begin on my bold course of action sooner rather than later. Fortune favored the bold, I reminded myself. "And Isabella?"

She stopped and turned to look at me, her expression expectant. "Yes?"

"I would..." I took a deep breath. "I would do anything – go anywhere – to be at your side. And I thought you should know that."

Her plump lips fell open in surprise and I knew in that moment that if I kissed her, she would not object. But I wanted her to have time to get used to the idea of my courtship. I wanted her to long for me as much as I did for her. Instead, I lifted her slender hand to my mouth and pressed my lips reverently against her knuckles for just a moment, allowing my breath to ghost over her flesh. I felt the delicate shiver that ran through her and gloried in it. "Good night, Isabella," I said. "And I hope that you have sweet dreams." A spirit of mischief made me add, "I would not object if you dreamt of me."

She mumbled a good night and sort of stumbled to her makeshift bed. I settled in my own blankets, opposite hers across the fire. I stared at her for a long moment, taking note of the way her eyes studied me. Then she gave me a shy smile and closed her eyes.

I did the same, content.


	8. Chapter 8

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**VIII**

_**Edward's POV**_

The boys awoke before the sun, already talking a mile a minute before I had even forced my eyelids open. I had not spent a restful night. I had been exquisitely and painfully aware of Isabella's every sigh, every twitch, and every breath. My body had ached and my mind had raced all night long, but an hour or so before the boys woke, I finally fell into a fitful doze. I was not ready for Aaron's and Alex's ceaseless barrage of questions and observations by far. That Isabella managed to sleep through it was both amazing and frustrating. I realized that she must have been more exhausted than I suspected.

I decided to give her a few more moments of peace and told the boys to go rinse off in the stream, to take care of their personal needs and to make sure the horses had plenty of water. They rushed off to do my bidding without any protest, still enamored by the change in their routines. If I had bade them to water the horses at home, I would have been faced with whines and dragging footsteps.

I started a pot of coffee after I replenished the fire and it was that aroma which finally nudged Isabella from her slumber. I watched her as she woke, first stretching lazily like a kitten in the sun, and then blinking dazedly at the weak morning light. At last, her delicate nose twitched and her eyes went to the fire...and the coffee. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes.

"That smells...heavenly, Mr. – Edward," she said almost shyly.

I poured her a mug and brought it to her, entranced by her sleep tousled hair and pinkened cheeks. She took a sip and then blushed more deeply. "I need..." She looked down at the coffee and bit her lip.

"The boys went that way," I said and pointed to my left. Then I pointed to the right. "You should have some privacy if you go that way." 

Her face flamed but she nodded and handed me her mug. She returned a few minutes later and just moments later, the boys came racing into the camp site. Isabella smiled at their freshly scrubbed faces and thoroughly soaked hair. It was apparent that the boys had indulged in a bit more water play than I had had in mind.

"Mr. Masen told us to wash our faces," Alex volunteered.

"It looks as if you tried to drown each other," Isabella observed.

The boys exchanged glances, clearly committed to keeping each others' confidences. She laughed and ruffled their hair and then placed a kiss on each cheek, which they both protested out of habit.

"Today we shall reach Denver," I reminded them. "Provided we get an early start." That set the boys to racing around the camp, picking up their belongings and shoving them into their packs. Then they rolled up their blankets, doing better than I would have expected, and buckling the straps that held them together. Of course, since they were ready to go, they got rather impatient when I reminded them we had to eat something for our morning meal.

Isabella unpacked some biscuits she had made for the journey, as well as some cheese. Though it was not nearly as good as the bacon and eggs that Mrs. Kendall would be serving at the moment, it filled our bellies. We ate our somewhat stale biscuits and cheese and then started loading up the wagon.

Within an hour of waking, we were on our way once more, the boys chattering commentary making the miles pass swiftly.

Isabella sat at my side and the boys seemed happy to scamper about the back of the wagon, hollering and jumping around until I had to scold them and order them to settle down. Isabella stifled her laughter when they both immediately sat down without a word of protest.

"Why can't_ I_ get them to behave that quickly?" she questioned me softly.

"It requires a man's touch," I teased and then I winked at her, and appreciated the way her blush looked against her pale cheeks and dark eyes. I also savored the way her hair was pulled back more loosely now, soft curls clinging to her cheeks and neck, and then lovingly falling to her bosom. I wanted very badly to follow their path, but I allowed only my eyes to do so.

As we rode, Isabella and I began to discuss more personal issues than we had in the past. It was as if both of us recognized the fact that there was something more than the employer/employee relationship between us now. Somehow, in that moment when our eyes had met across a campfire, things had changed and we both knew it. It was as obvious as if I had asked her permission to court her.

Once our journey was over, once she had put her parents' affairs to rest and we had returned home, I would court her in the most formal sense. There would be no doubt in anyone's mind that I had honorable intentions. We lived on the frontier, and the rules of society were more relaxed, but no lady wanted to be dishonored. And Isabella had been gently reared, a life I knew much about even it was from a man's perspective.

I realized that at some point, we would also have to discuss with the boys what our intentions were. I never doubted that Isabella would have a formal, legal union in mind. She was not the type of woman to lower herself with some demeaning, tawdry affair. Isabella was someone to whom a man gave his vow and his name. I could not – and would not – do anything less.

I was able to control the horses with one hand, they were old and well trained. I put one hand on my leg and was shocked when I felt Isabella brush her fingers against mine, lightly, tentatively, as if I might protest. Silently, I twined my smallest finger with hers, and after a few moments, I linked our fingers. She did not move her hand, nor did she give any other sign that we were touching.

Behind us the boys were growing rambunctious again, but I did not scold them. They did not notice our intertwined hands, but I was aware of nothing else.

** ~~~AYW~~~~**

We stopped for our midday meal and when I assisted Isabella down from the wagon, I let my hands linger for just a moment on her waist. She did not wear a corset and for that I was grateful. I did not think that her shape required any enhancements or changes; it was perfect just as it was. She blushed a bit, but did not protest. The experience of touching her, however innocent it appeared on the surface, was a heady one.

The boys yelling and running around was the only thing which removed our attentions from each other. Isabella put together a simple repast which did not require a fire and we ate quickly and efficiently, quickly getting back into the wagon though I suspected that portions of her anatomy were beginning to protest almost as loudly as mine were. The seat was hard and unforgiving and neither of us was accustomed to such long hours in a wagon.

About an hour outside of Denver, I began asking her questions again, mostly just because I loved the sound of her voice as she answered. The boys had finally fallen asleep in the back and it felt as if we were alone in the world.

"What were you like as a little girl?" I asked.

She sighed. "I fear I was a trial to my parents," she confessed as if it was a shameful secret, but I only laughed. I would be very grateful to have a daughter like Isabella, with her great dark eyes and mischievous laughter. And I was glad to see her speak of her parents without tears.

"In what way?"

"I wanted to climb trees like the boys. I wanted to learn to ride astride instead of sidesaddle. I would catch frogs and toads and fireflies instead of attending to my sewing lessons," Isabella said. "I had no brothers or sisters, so I played with the children of the servants and they had mostly boys. It seemed only fair to me that I be allowed to do as they did. I ruined more petticoats than I care to remember."

I laughed again. "I ruined a few skirts myself," I admitted.

She sent me a sideways glance from beneath long lashes. "Are you confessing to being a rogue, Mr. Masen?"

"Absolutely not, Mrs. Black," I assured her. "It was just that my brothers and I were often in mischief. That mischief often involved dirt and mud and other nasty things. And when my mother would start to yell at me, I would fling myself upon her mercy and hug her closely, inadvertently sullying her skirts in the process. She always fussed at me for it, but my sin was soon forgotten." I did not often speak of my family, but I wanted her to see that things were most definitely different now. Eventually, she would have a right to know everything about me. I would start small, with innocent observations and stories about my childhood.

"She must love you very much," Isabella mused.

I smiled and shrugged. "I suppose she does," I admitted. "And I love _her_."

There was a pause and then Isabella asked softly, "May I ask why you never get letters from her then?"

I answered with a pause of my own and then looked at her. "Because she doesn't know where I am," I said honestly. Then I brushed my knuckles over her cheek. "But that is a story for another day."


	9. Chapter 9

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

_**Author's Note: Their journey will begin in the next chapter and things will start "moving along" for them quite nicely after that. **_

**IX**

_**Isabella's POV**_

I had been quite surprised at my own daring in allowing Edward to hold my hand. I was even more surprised at how much that seemingly innocent touch sent my heart to racing and my mind turned toward thoughts that ill-became me as a lady. Still, I would not wish them away. I had seen my own happiness at the sudden turn of events in Mr. Masen's green eyes. His patience and care for my sons had been my undoing. Even more than the masculine scent of him, or the appealing lines of his jaw or the masculine strength of his hands, it had been his actions toward Alex and Aaron that had caused the walls to come crumbling down.

We would not act on our feelings. Not yet. It was not the right time. But I felt confident that we would, when the time and circumstances were right. The day would come when he would loosen my hair because it would be his right and privilege to do so. He would unlace my chemise and reveal flesh that was only for his eyes. We would share an intimacy that might, one day, lead to children. He would sleep beside me in bed, his arms wrapped around me, holding me close.

I knew this with all certainty, though the knowledge was newly found. There was something about Edward that excited and drew me in ways that no lady would ever admit. He was a gentleman, but beneath that polished, polite surface something else lingered. Something that lured me closer with every breath.

As I pondered Edward and the mystery surrounding him, I remembered my mother pointing out a man at a party one night when I just a girl of fifteen. She had given a discreet nod of her head toward the man and then whispered in my ear, "That is a dangerous man, my girl. That is a man that a woman should not allow herself to be alone with."

I had studied him carefully, wondering if I would be able to see what made him dangerous. He had appeared to be much like every other man at the party. There had been nothing about him to mark him as extraordinary. Then I had seen him lean in close to a young lady and whisper something in her ear. When she had given him an outraged gasp and stalked away, he had looked up and seen me watching him. He had given me an audacious wink and I understood my mother's words then. It was something in his eyes – something dark and wild and untamable. In truth, it was not unappealing. And perhaps it was in _that_ fact that the danger lurked. I had not fully understood it then; I was too young and naïve. But now, having been married, and having been wracked by my unmentionable desires, I could understand more fully.

Edward was just such a man. His beauty was so appealing, his charm so overwhelming, that a lady would be sorely tempted to forget she was a lady if he asked it of her.

I kept my thoughts to myself, but I did allow my leg to brush up against his as we rode along. Even with the barrier of my voluminous skirts and his trousers, I felt the warmth of his flesh burning a brand into mine.

I was playing with fire and I wanted to burn.

_**Edward's POV**_

We arrived in Denver just before darkness fell. We had eaten some apples but all of us were starving as we rolled into the bustling city. Compared to cities back East, of course, Denver was a rough and uncouth town. But for out here, it was a city. The boys' eyes went wide with wonder as I led the horses to a nearby stable. Isabella and I had talked about it on the way and had decided that the best option would be to sell the horses and wagon and put aside the money to repurchase those items when we made the return trip. She had no idea how long it would take to settle her parents' affairs.

While I haggled with a giant of a man over a fair price, Isabella kept the boys occupied by showing them the different horses and then walking them outside and pointing out various sites of interest. Finally, having reached an agreement with the man, I went outside to join them, placing the funds in her hands with a flourish.

"You did very well, Mr. Masen," she murmured approvingly.

"It is my most fervent wish to attend diligently to _any_ task you might assign me, Mrs. Black," I replied politely. On the surface, I was the gentleman that any lady like Isabella deserved, but inside, my emotions and baser instincts were roiling and churning, threatening to escape my control.

She smiled at me secretively, as if she sensed my inner turmoil and, instead of being disgusted, was shyly appreciative. I could only hope that would be the case when the time came to reveal my innermost desires to her.

To my surprise, she looped her arm through my elbow as we walked to the hotel. It was the first time she had ever touched me in public, even in so innocent a way. The boys did not notice, running ahead of us as far as their mother would allow. Having been somewhat confined all day, their energy levels were at full and they showed no signs of slowing. It would be a battle to get them into their beds later.

When we inquired about rooms at the hotel, Mrs. Black was shocked at the rate quote to her. As I watched her face pale, I could almost see her mentally calculating the funds she had brought with her and the funds from the horses, which had to be put aside for the return trip home. I tugged at her elbow. "Mrs. Black," I whispered in her ear and was rewarded with a shiver. "If I might suggest a more economical alternative?"

She stepped away from the desk and nodded.

"Before I proceed, I want to say that I make my suggestion with all respect," I murmured and my eyes flickered to the boys. "Denver is a rough city, ma'am. You need to be protected. Your sons need to be looked after as well, and happily, my desire to protect the three of you will fall in line quite nicely with preserving the funds we have available." There, Isabella, see how I want to protect you? Do you realize that I already think of us as a family? Let me do what I am supposed to do.

She looked at me, confused but willing to listen.

I smiled gently and lightly squeezed her hand, feeling a thrill when she returned the gesture. "If I might be so bold... The four of us could share a room. I will happily use our bedrolls to make a pallet on the floor, while you and the boys share the bed. I swear to you that I shall make no inappropriate overtures." Once more I glanced at the boys, who would surely prove to be the best chaperones in the world.

She paused and then nodded, pressing some money into my hands. "Make the arrangements...Edward."

I knew that I was grinning as I approached the clerk once more. I leaned on the counter and gave him a more reserved smile. "My wife and sons and I would like a room, please."

"But I thought the lady wanted-"

I waved my hand at him dismissively, calling upon a former life. "I have convinced my wife that the boys are too young to be alone in a room, especially in a town like Denver."

The poor man did not know whether to congratulate me or blush with shame, so instead, he merely pushed the register at me and bade me write our names. _Mr. and Mrs. Edward...Masen_ _– sons, Alex and Aaron_.

It was not quite what I wanted, but for now it would do. I turned to her with a smile and held up the key. "It seems that our room is ready and I suspect our bags will arrive quite soon." I had even talked the stable master into delivering our few belongings for a nominal charge.

We all walked up the stairs to our room, the boys making far too much noise and drawing a scolding from their mother. Hardly abashed, they made their way down the hall and ran into the room, ready to explore their new surroundings. I could tell that Isabella was tired but I could guess what would make her feel even better than sleep.

"Why don't I take the boys to get something to eat?" I suggested. "The hotel has a restaurant and I'm sure we can find something there. I'll have the front desk clerk send up a tub and some hot water for a bath for you." The look of extreme pleasure on her face told me that I had guessed correctly.

An hour later, the boys and I returned to the room after my knock drew Isabella's invitation to enter. As I opened the door, the sight that greeted my eyes made my breath catch in my throat. The tub had been cleared away and she was sitting in front of the fire in a night gown and a robe. In truth, I was seeing no more flesh than her dresses revealed. Except...

Her dainty feet were curled under her as she sat on the rug before the fire and she was patiently brushing her hair, taming the curls into some semblance of order. She turned as we entered and smiled at me, her shyness showing in the pink of her cheeks. But an unexpected boldness shone through as well, in the proud carriage of her head, the lines of her shoulders. She was not ashamed of being seen in such a state. On the contrary, she was offering up the tantalizing sight to me as a gift of sorts.

_This is me_, she was saying. _This is what I have to offer_. Her offering was not in any mere physical sense. She was showing me the woman she was, secure in her feminine knowledge that_ she_ was enough – far more than I deserved, in fact.

My approval must have gleamed in my eyes, though it had to remain unspoken for the moment, because she gave me a nod of her hand in acknowledgement. I had seen the prize I wanted to gain, and had not found it lacking in any way. It was far beyond her physical person; I desired the bravery and determination I was witness to every day.

I handed her the small tray of food we had brought up with us and the boys chattered to her of their adventures in the restaurant, but her eyes kept returning to me. I sensed her inspection and wordlessly, I offered myself up to her as she had done to me. I loosened my tie and undid the top button of my shirt. Then I loosened my cuffs and rolled up my sleeves. It was as much as I could do in our present circumstances, but it was enough.

I had been weighed and measured in her eyes...and not found wanting.

Our eyes met above the boys' dark heads.


	10. Chapter 10

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**X**

_**Edward's POV**_

I was shocked when I felt her warm, soft hands caressing me, dragging me from my slumber. Tentatively, she brushed her fingers over my neck and then moved them down my chest, slipping beneath my shirt to tease and toyed with one nipple. I arched into her touch, my surprise stealing my breath – my voice. I murmured her name at last, my desperation helping me find the necessary air to do so. She laughed softly and I felt the puff of her breath against my throat. It was the most exquisitely painful heat I have ever experienced.

"Isabella," I said again.

"Edward," she whispered back and her lips caressed my ear as she spoke. That tiny connection between us was enough to make the lust roar to life. I shifted slightly so that she would not feel the hardness at my groin.

But she shocked me yet again and her fingers ghosted over my straining length. "Don't hide from me, Edward," she told me softly. "I want to feel you...all of you. Always."

Then her fingers closed around me and she gave a short stroke. It was almost enough to undo me, that one simple, short caress. I groaned and my back arched against my will, thrusting me into her hand. I tried to warn her, to tell her that it was too much. She was too beautiful and I wanted her too desperately to maintain any control.

But it was too late. I felt my climax sweep over me, embarrassingly swift, astonishingly fierce. It seemed as if pumped gallons of fluid onto my belly and her hand, and still her breath caressed me as she murmured praises against my skin. The evidence of my lack of control began to cool and I twitched. I reached down to touch her hand and-

I awoke with a start. I groaned as I realized that the climax I had dreamed had, in fact, taken place in my sleep. Was I a young boy, to spill myself in my slumber? I grimaced and removed my shirt, using it to wipe away my guilt. The little room was quiet, and I could only be glad that the boys had not woken. Apparently, I had been very quiet in my dreamed ecstasy.

I rolled over and tried to find a comfortable position on my pallet. It was difficult knowing that just a few feet away, Isabella rested on a soft bed. She would be sleep warm and drowsy. The image of her was so vivid in my head that I could almost _feel_ her soft flesh pressed against me.

Fervently, I tried to remember that her sons were in that soft bed with her. I reminded myself that she was a lady and a widow and was due more than my lustful dreams. Though my body ached for her, my heart ached no less. For a long while, I tossed and turned, restless and frustrated. Finally, I got to my feet and stumbled as quietly as I could to the basin of water on the washstand and splashed some tepid water on my face.

In the moonlight, I could see them. Alex was snuggled up against his mother, while Aaron was sprawled on his back, one hand hanging off the edge of the bed. Carefully, I tucked his hand beneath the covers. I stood there and watched them. They were each wonderful in their own way, and in their own way, I wanted them all to be mine.

**~AYW~**

We discovered that we would have to wait two days for the next train back East. I resolved then and there to show the boys as much of Denver as I could. This had the added benefit of allowing me to escort Isabella as well.

Alex and Aaron exclaimed over the multi-story buildings, made faces of disgust at the sometimes filthy streets, and generally had a wonderful time just absorbing all that they saw. They were constantly trying to talk us into buying them treats of one sort or another. I found myself enjoying their chatter and enthusiasm, and most of all I enjoyed knowing that everyone who viewed us saw a little family.

If the days were a delight, then the nights were torture. The scent and sound of her so close, and yet so completely out of reach, grew more painful with each passing moment. On the second night, I woke to find my own hand clasped around my manhood and I gasped at the remnants of the dream from which I had awakened. To my mortification, I saw Isabella's dark eyes shining in the moonlight and they were locked on me – on my errant hand. I was tempted to continue stroking myself to completion, but instead I closed my eyes and turned over. I heard her sigh in the darkness, but what that little sound meant I did not know.

**~AYW~**

"Are we really going to be on a train?" Alex asked excitedly. Again. He was thrilled about the upcoming journey. Aaron was less so and wanted to know how safe the train really was. The closer we had gotten to our departure time, the more quiet Aaron had grown.

"Yes, we really are," I assured him. We would be leaving in about an hour and were currently trying to gather our belongings so that we could get the boys to the depot in plenty of time.

"And it'll take us a long time to get there, right?" Alex pressed.

"Well not too long," I assured him. "You will find much to do on the journey. I've brought your lessons with me."

Alex groaned and even his brother shook his head mournfully. "We cannot waste so many days," I told them. "Besides, I assure you that you will both be bored in a very short amount of time."

"Hardly," Alex scoffed and then dipped his head at a hard look from his mother. "I don't think so, sir," he amended.

"Yes, it will take us several days, and our journey could be delayed by the weather," I said. "However, I shall endeavor to keep your boredom at a minimum."

Aaron shot me a look from beneath his long lashes. His eyes always reminded me of his mother, for in them shone the same sharp intelligence. "There are sometimes accidents, too," he murmured.

"I think we shall all be safe," I told him.

"I think that is everything," Isabella – Bella – said at last. I picked up the satchels and followed them all down the stairs.

**~AYW~**

We had been lucky enough to obtain berths in a Pullman car. The accommodations were not lavish, but they were clean and comfortable, which was enough for me. For her, however, I would have liked to offered more. I wished that I had access to the type of financial resources that would enable me to provide Isabella and the boys with luxury. There had been a time when I might have been able to do so.

Still, she did not seem to mind and the boys were practically bouncing in their seats. She had packed us some food and we passed the time by discussing the scenery and playing games with the boys. I had tucked a small chess set into my bag and I began teaching them the game. Alex and Aaron both grasped it quickly, to their delight. The rocking motion of the train made it difficult at times, but the boys did not complain of boredom that first day.

We stopped to refuel and pick up and drop off passengers and the next few days proceeded in the same fashion. The boys did grow bored and when their complaints grew, I would give them work to do. That slowed their mutterings, but did not banish them. It was difficult to find time alone with Bella, which made the trip frustrating. But I knew it was only a matter of time before I declared my intentions openly. She would not be surprised by my declaration.

** ~AYW~**

We finally arrived in Pittsburgh and Bella seemed to grow very quiet as we hired a buggy and located some accommodations. Her family home had burned down, so we could not stay there. The boys kept asking her questions about various places we passed and she answered them, but she seemed distracted.

This time, we had separate rooms. We could hardly keep up the deception of being wed here in her hometown, but I was more than willing to make it a truth rather than a lie. I made sure that she and the boys were settled in their room. She hesitated at the door, pulling it almost closed behind her.

"I wanted to thank you," she said quietly. "For accompany me, for helping me with the boys. For...everything." Her cheeks grew becomingly pink and I had to restrain the urge to brush my fingers against the color.

"I want to do that for you," I told her.

"Do what?" she asked, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

"Everything," I replied.

"Oh..." she said, obviously taken aback. Then her smile grew wider. "That's very gentlemanly of you, Mr. Masen."

I leaned in close and let my lips linger near her ears. "That's where you're wrong...Isabella," I breathed. "My thoughts – my intentions – aren't gentlemanly at all." Then I laughed and she trembled slightly. "Well, my_ intentions_ are honorable if that counts for anything," I added, letting her know without words that my thoughts were definitely _not_.

I pulled back and her eyes were wide, her breathing rapid. "It does," she whispered. "It counts, I mean."

I smiled slowly at her. "I'm very glad to hear that." I nodded. "I look forward to escorting you and the boys tomorrow. And please, if there's anything I might do to make this easier for you, do not hesitate to notify me."

"I won't," she promised.

I reached down and took her hand in mine. It was delicate, but not fragile – much like Isabella herself. Slowly, giving her plenty of time to withdraw her hand, I moved my lips toward her fingers. I placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles, and then I closed my eyes and inhaled the sweet, subtle scent of her. Opening my eyes, I allowed myself to briefly and lightly brush a caress across her cheek.

"Good night, Isabella," I murmured. "Sweet dreams."

Her cheeks grew red then, and I knew she was remembering watching me as I slept and dreamed of her, my body hard and aching for her. "You as well, Mr. Masen." There was a low, husky note to her voice that had my body reacting in predictable ways.

I gave a small groan. "You, my lovely Bella, are a vixen," I chided.

She gave me a light shove in the chest and shook her head. "And you, Mr. Masen, are temptation personified. Go now, before I forget that I am a lady and a mother."

Unable to help myself, I gave her cheeky grin as I backed away. "My dreams will be sweet indeed," I promised her and I laughed when her blush deepened.


	11. Chapter 11

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**XI**

_**Bella's POV**_

If I had believed Mr. Masen to be an attentive companion in the past, I had been mistaken. At least, in comparison to how he behaved after having declared his intentions. There was no chair that was not pulled out, no door that was not opened, no item that was not lifted, no child who was not attended to without a single word or request from me.

He fetched my gloves before I knew I needed them. He arranged for our meals and gave the boys activities to occupy them while I took care of the last of the details relating to my parents' estate. Though I had believed them to be completely destitute, after sending me the letter informing me of their deaths, the lawyer had been contacted by a family friend who told him that my father had given him a small sum of money to be held in trust for me.

I was awed at the man's honesty, for in truth no one would have known if he had kept the money for himself. It was not a large amount, but anything would make a difference in our circumstances. Besides, as Mr. Masen teased me one morning, soon I would have no need of paying a tutor.

We were planning a future we had not even acknowledged with words. But the touches... Oh yes, the touches that passed between us, stolen and fleeting, confirmed what our hearts already knew.

We were going to be together. If we had remained in the East, our union might have been frowned upon, but we would live in the untamed West, where our marriage would not raise so much as an eyebrow. Though if we had faced the sanction of every man, woman and child known to us, I would not have cared. Unseemly as it was unexpected, I was going to grab for the happiness I sensed he would bring me.

Though in truth only a week had passed, it felt like we had spent a lifetime in our strange seclusion. We had arrived late on a Tuesday night, and by Thursday I realized that I had accepted our coming union as a matter of fact. I did not know when we would join our lives legally, only that we would.

When I had passed from thinking of Mr. Masen as only my sons' tutor and started to think of him as my future husband? In truth, I suspected it was that moment when he had whispered his husky promise in the hallway of the hotel. It was as good as a vow, I realized, at least as far as Mr. Masen was concerned.

During the long sleepless nights when he was so close and yet so far beyond my touch, I sometimes whispered his name. "Edward..." It felt good and right on my lips and I longed to say it to him – openly and without reservation. Instead, I clung to the formality of his surname, needing that one tiny, insignificant shield to keep my actions virtuous. In truth, I longed to kiss him, to delve my fingers into the soft warmth of that unruly hair, to explore his lips and mouth with my own. I wanted so many things, and part of me was mortified that I continued to harbor such shameless thoughts even as I dealt with the painful details of my parents' estate.

Friends I had left behind to marry Jacob soon discovered that I was back and they began signaling their intentions to visit. Edward had deflected one such call while I was discussing matters with the attorney, and I knew that our moments of solitude and privacy were about to come to an end.

Finally, on the evening of our seventh day in the city, Edward and I had a moment to ourselves. The boys had worn themselves out with running around that day, exploring the many wonders of the big city. They had barely been able to keep from nodding their heads into the plates at the evening meal.

"They are fast asleep," I whispered as I closed the door to the bedroom and walked into the tiny sitting room that my quarters boasted. It had been an extravagance, but one for which I was mighty grateful at the moment. Edward was sort of sprawled on the small settee, his long legs stretched out before him, his tie undone though his collar was still fastened tightly.

Boldly, I went to sit beside him. His hand reached automatically for mine and I found myself savoring the small intimacy.

"I know that we are going to meet your friends tomorrow," he finally said. I had agreed to a luncheon tomorrow, and my old friends would meet my sons – and Edward Masen.

"Yes, I've been so busy that I haven't had the opportunity to go calling," I said with a touch of regret. I had missed so many of my friends, but I regretted that it had taken my parents' death to bring about a reunion, as temporary as that reunion might be.

His thumb rubbed against my hand, sending a slow river of warmth through my veins. He nodded thoughtfully. "I was wondering...Isabella..." As always, the sound of my name falling from his perfect lips made my heart speed up.

"What were you wondering...Edward?" I added daringly.

His green eyes shot my way and a slow, sinful smile tugged at those perfect lips. I could have sworn that I had laced my corset too tightly; for my lungs would not fill up with air no matter how hard I tried to breathe.

He took a deep breath and his fingers tightened around mine. "Am I to be introduced to your friends as the boys' tutor or..." His gaze flickered toward my face yet again. "Or something else?"

I tried to ignore the thrill that went through me at this sign of his eagerness to have our intentions signaled to all. "What would you prefer, Mr. Masen?"

His grin appeared again and his eyes glinted with humor. "First, I would prefer to be Edward again, as opposed to Mr. Masen."

I nodded. "I suppose that is a reasonable request." I squeezed his hand. "Edward."

Sighing with satisfaction, he lifted my hand to his lips. "If I might be so bold as to make another request?"

"You may," I conceded with a fluttering in my chest.

Once more, his long fingers caressed my own and that small gesture was almost too intimate to bear. "I should like very much, and be very proud indeed, to be introduced as your future husband." He closed his eyes briefly and his lips moved. I could not make out what he was saying.

I paused and his eyes opened abruptly. I cupped his strong jaw in my free hand and he nuzzled into it with gentle assurance. "If that is your wish, I find myself quite disposed to indulge it," I replied.

We sat there for a moment, silent and enthralled with the promises that now were not just understood, but spoken and acknowledged. "Then we might tell the boys as well?" he ventured.

"I think that might be a good idea," I replied with a little smile. "If we tell them, there may be no need to announce it to anyone else."

"Alex," we both said in unison and I laughed to think that he knew my sons so well.

His expression grew solemn again and he urged me closer. I was in no way reluctant to do so and the warmth of his body so close to mine was a heady reward. He reached up and silently pulled a hairpin from my hair. Without speaking, he kept at his task, removing five of them before my hair made a bid for freedom. Two pins after that and it came tumbling down quickly, covering my rapidly beating heart and his hand.

I felt him rubbing a strand of it between his fingers. I watched as he seemed mesmerized by that simple sight. My hair seemed to seek his caress, curling about his fingers with loving abandon. I wanted to follow that example.

His hand cradled the back of my neck and he drew me inexorably closer to his mouth. Our lips touched and we both moaned. "Mercy," he whispered and that made me laugh for some reason.

By some unspoken agreement, I found myself sliding down on the settee until he was hovering over me, supporting his weight on his arms. "Bella," he whispered.

"Yes?" I could not stop myself from running my fingers through his hair.

"Promise me that you'll stop me before I go too far," he said, his voice strained, his green eyes glittering.

"What is too far?" I teased. I regretted it when he moaned and shook his head.

"Please," he begged. "Don't let me...just don't."

I was no virgin. I was a widow and a mother, so I knew what he meant. I was both curious and cautious. "All right," I agreed and he slumped against me in relief, which only made our situation that much more precarious.

His eyes flickered to my lips and he licked his own. I felt my breasts pressing against his chest, the thin materials of my chemise and dress providing no protection against the sensations that buffeted me.

"You tempt me with every breath, Isabella," he said in a thick voice.

"As do you," I countered.

He licked his lips again. "We do not have to give into temptation...fully."

"True," I whispered. And then I pulled him down to me, forcing him to rest his weight on me completely. "A small surrender, perhaps," I suggested.

He groaned yet again as his mouth descended to mine. Edward's tongue swept against my lips, demanding that my mouth open. I happily obliged and I felt him jerk against me in response. One hand remained behind my neck, while the other danced down my back to settle at my hip, where he pressed me up against him.

A hard, warm length of flesh twitched against my skirt. I wanted to touch him, but I knew to do so would toss us both into a storm we could not survive. I settled for placing my hands on his back, roaming his hard contours, exploring the body that he kept hidden behind shirts and coats. I moved my hands up to this throat while his mouth continued to plunder mine. I tugged at his collar until it was undone and a warm patch of pale flesh was exposed to my eyes. A few strands of brown hair tickled my fingers.

With a gasp, I pulled my mouth from his and pressed my lips to his throat. Edward shuddered against me and his hips began moving, pressing that intimate flesh to me. His mouth moved frantically at my throat, my ear, even my temple. His hands were hard and gentle at the same time, keeping our bodies close.

He gave a soft growl of sound and sat up abruptly. Putting his elbows on his knees, he was breathing heavily. Edward shook his head as if to clear it. Giving me a rueful smile, he said quietly, "I think it best if we do not delay too long. I shall be insane or dead if we do."

I laughed at him then, though I knew exactly what he meant.


	12. Chapter 12

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

_**Author's Note: It won't be too long before a bit more about Edward's past is revealed. Yes, it will be revealed evntually! :D**_

**XII**

_**Edward's POV**_

We decided to tell the boys our news at breakfast. Food generally put them in a good mood, and it was our hope that they would be so busy filling their bellies that they would give little real thought to our new status. We both realized that our reprieve would not last long, just long enough for each of them to formulate a million questions. But we were determined to be grateful for any moment of peace we could gain.

I watched as Bella nervously sipped at her tea and I dared to reach out and grasp her hand in my mine, even in front of the boys. Aaron stopped chewing and looked at our intertwined hands. I cleared my throat and got a subtle nod from Bella.

"Alex...Aaron," I said quietly. "Your mother and I have some news to share with you that we hope will please you both."

Alex swallowed a large bite of eggs and waited, shoving another bit of bacon into his mouth when it took me a moment to find the words. "Well, the truth of the matter is that I've come to regard your mother with a great deal of respect and affection." Aaron blinked and looked at our hands again.

"What Mr. Masen means to say is that we've both developed feelings for each other and..." Bella's words trailed off and her fingers tightened around mine. I decided to forge ahead.

"I have asked your mother to be my wife," I said boldly. "I've asked her that I be allowed to act as your father, to raise you as my own."

Alex and Aaron looked at each other, communicating in that wordless way they had with each other. The "conversation" did not take long, and at the end of it they nodded and turned their eyes back to us.

"Does that mean you'll still teach us our lessons?" Aaron asked, looking merely curious. Alex, however, looked hopeful. I knew exactly what that quick young mind was thinking.

"While I will not be your tutor exactly," I began cautiously, noting Alex's ever widening smile. "I will continue to instruct you as I have done before. I will simply add the responsibilities of being your father and your mother's husband to my duties." I smiled and kissed Bella's hand daringly. "Which will be both my joy and my privilege."

Alex looked disgruntled while Aaron merely nodded. "All right," Aaron said quietly. He looked at his brother once more, and yet again they indulged in that oddly silent communication. They turned to look at us as one. "We like it," Aaron announced, giving us their seal of approval. Then Alex began chattering away, a mile a minute and hardly taking time to draw a breath. He had a hundred questions for us, including whether or not we intended to have any more children and if any of them might, tragically, be girls.

I had to swallow my laughter at his blunt question, while his mother's face lit up as if she was sitting much too close to the fire. I had to then restrain my thoughts as I wondered if that blush extended down into her chemise. One day, I would know and that thought had my hands clenching.

Luckily, the boys finished up their meal at that point and began to squirm in their seats, waiting to be excused. Bella glanced at me and gave me a small nod, letting me know that she wanted me to start taking the initiative with the boys. "You may be excused now," I told them. "Make sure you wash your faces and hands," I added as they rushed away from the table.

"And don't forget behind your ears," Bella called out.

Alex groaned and then they were gone.

I began gathering the dishes and Bella got up to help me. We piled the dishes onto a tray and I put them outside the door of the room. "Well," I said. "That went well."

"They know you," Bella said quietly. "They like you. I'm not surprised it went well."

She came to stand so close to me that I could inhale her unique, subtle scent. It was womanly and warm and beckoned me as surely as a touch. Slowly, giving her time to refuse me, I reached for her. I put my hands on her hips and pulled her closer to me. I felt the layers of petticoats beneath my hands and longed for the day when it would be my right to tug at them, pushing them out of my way so that I might caress the scented flesh beneath. I hardened at the thought, my whole body surging on the wave of desire I felt for her.

Bella wrapped her arms around me and rested her head on my chest. I could only pray that the folds of her petticoats and the voluminous skirt would shield her from the realization of my physical need for her. "Edward?" she whispered.

"Yes, love," I answered. I felt her start slightly at the endearment. We had not yet truly spoken words of love, but I vowed to give them to her before I made her my wife. Having made a marriage of convenience once, she needed to know that I wanted her simply for her.

"Thank you," she replied quietly. "Thank you for being so good with the boys."

I tipped up her face and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. "I hope you will think I am as good with their mother."

Her face turned rosy again and I laughed a little. Then she stood on her toes and pressed her lips more firmly against mine and all inclination to laughter fled as I tightened my grip around her and moaned at the feel of her soft tongue brushing against mine. With no regard for our potential audience, I let my hand slide up her side until I was gently cradling the soft weight of her breast in my hand. She moaned and moved against me like a wanton kitten and I knew in that moment that I was going to savor the process of initiating Bella into the joys of the marriage bed. It seemed her union with Mr. Black had been a cool, joyless thing. Our marriage, however, would never be like that. I would show her every day how she made my blood run hot and my body tremble with need.

I softly brushed my thumb over her peaked nipple and she gasped against my mouth. I wondered if her nipples would be a soft pink or perhaps a dusky rose. I looked forward very much to finding out for myself. I moved my lips to her ear and whispered, "I cannot wait to feel you pressed against me in our bed, with nothing between us..." The words were crass, crude even, but she responded positively.

She shuddered against me, but then I heard the boys approached and swiftly stepped away, keeping my hands on her shoulders to steady her. Bella took a deep breath and straightened her skirts with trembling hands. She shot me a look of exasperation and longing and I laughed.

It felt good to laugh. I was a happy man. And I meant to make sure that Bella was a happy woman.

**~AYW~**

A few hours later, Bella's friends arrived. I had arranged to have tea and some small cakes delivered to the room. It was a bit of an extravagance, but I did not want her to be shamed in front of her friends. No one knew how difficult her circumstances were, for Mrs. Swan had bragged to her friends how her daughter had married a rich man. There was no need to disabuse them of that notion. Bella had her pride after all, and I would not have it any other way. She had worked hard to keep what was hers, and now I would help her as much as I was able.

Angela Weber Dawkins and Mimi Drake Bell had been two of Bella's friends while she was growing up. First, the young ladies expressed their sympathies on the passing of Bella's parents, and then their condolences on the death of Jacob Black. Finally, they voiced their admiration of Bella's sons. The boys bore the kisses and hair ruffling with ill-concealed impatience but they did endure. Alex wiped away the more demonstrative Mimi's kiss when the ladies weren't looking. I tried to look disapproving but failed miserably, as Alex's giggle told him.

The ladies settled down to drink their tea and the boys tried to act as if they were having fun. They squirmed and wriggled and finally began poking at each other in their boredom. I foresaw a squabble and kept a close eye on them.

"It was so nice of you to accompany Bella, Mr. Masen," Mimi said with an arch look.

Bella's eyes widened and she shot a look toward me. I just waited to see if she would tell them their news. Finally, she squared her shoulders and cleared her throat. "Actually, Mimi, Mr. Masen...Edward...and I have recently..." And it was there that words seemed to fail her.

I took pity on her and decided to break the news before Alex or Aaron blurted it out. "I've recently asked Mrs. Black to become my wife," I said with dignity and pride, and reached for her hand. "She agreed and the boys don't seem to mind." Alex was too busy trying to grab something out of Aaron's pocket to pay much attention.

Angela smiled widely. "I'm so happy to hear that, Mr. Masen. Our Bella deserves to be happy and I think you'll certainly make sure that happens." Angela was quieter than Mimi, but her dark eyes held a kindness that made her hard not to notice. I smiled at both of them and then stood up.

"Well ladies, it has been a most enjoyable afternoon, but I do think that I'd best get these boys outside and let them run off some of their mischief," I told them with a pointed look toward the two boys, who raised guilty expressions.

"Aw, aren't you the sweetest?" Mimi gushed. Angela's lips quirked in amusement as she took a sip of her tea.

"He most definitely is," Bella replied with a little smile of her own. She raised her face and I took the opportunity to place a polite kiss on her cheek. "Thank you...dear," she said quietly and flushed.

I took her hand and pressed a kiss to it. "It's my pleasure...love."

Alex groaned and Aaron made a choking noise, which was why I was sternly lecturing them while we made our way down the stairs. It was difficult to know exactly what I said to them, because my head was still spinning at the sound of her voice calling me dear.


	13. Chapter 13

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**XIII**

_**Edward's POV**_

I gave what I hoped was enough time for Bella to visit with her friends. The boys surprised me by taking my hands every now and then as they explored. And they ran. And tried to jump off of barrels and crates and other assorted obstacles. I tried to restrain them for the most part since they were wearing their best clothes and I did not think that their mother would appreciate me returning the boys – or their clothes – damaged. I took my role as their father seriously, and I did not think I should fail in my duties on my very first official day of duty. By revealing our plans to her friends, my fate had been happily sealed. So I would keep the boys presentable.

This, of course, turned out to be much more difficult than I had anticipated. Alex took a jump off a barrel and was clinging tenaciously to a drain pipe. He pretended that he wasn't frightened that he was going to fall, but I heard the shakiness in his voice. Aaron kept his brother calm until I could catch up and rescue the little devil. I had a feeling that I would never, ever be bored.

By the time I returned the boys to the hotel room, just a little worse for wear, we were all exhausted. Though I knew the boys would regain their energy far more quickly than I would. I collapsed onto the settee after Bella sent the boys to their room to clean up and asked her how her visit with her friends had gone.

She smiled sweetly. "It was lovely," she said. Then she sighed quietly and sat down beside me. "I suppose I did not realize how very different our lives were now," she admitted.

"In what way?" I asked, taking her hand in mine in a gesture that felt like the most natural thing in the world now.

Bella paused and then her fingers caressed mine, hesitantly at first and then with more certainty. Her touch did little to help my burgeoning state of arousal, but I did my best to shift my body away from her view. I had gotten the impression that, for all her widowed and motherhood status, Bella was still a bit of an innocent when it came to the pleasures of the flesh. I would most happily instruct her, I mused.

"They are all agog with the news that a new family is visiting the town, and wondering how they shall trump each other with the most beautiful dress," Bella explained. "While I..." Her eyes shot toward mine. "I am hoping that the cows are still giving enough milk and that the fence won't need to be mended again." Then a smile settled on her lips and grew wider. "And I am finally realizing that when we return home, I shall be married soon, and that I will not have to struggle to eek out an existence on my own. I shall have a shoulder to cry on, an arm to bring me close and comfort me. I am no longer alone...or lonely."

"I will do everything I can to ease your burden," I promised.

"That's not why I want to marry you," she said suddenly. "I want you to know that..."

"I know." I smiled and pulled her close, resting her dark head against my chest. I closed my eyes and imagined us in our bed, late at night with the sounds of the night surrounding us. Soon I would have every right to loosen the laces of her demure gray gown and to slip it from her shoulders. I would make short work of her corset, worn daily now that we were back in civilization as she said, for it was an instrument of torture if there had ever been one. I would soothe away the angry marks that garment would have left on her soft skin. Then I would kiss her fragrant flesh over the thin fabric of her chemise before delving beneath it to find the silk of Bella with my mouth and hands. I groaned at the imagery and Bella stirred against me.

Placing my hands gently on her, I urged her silently to stay in place. She stilled and settled. I inhaled her subtle scent, letting it invade my senses. Gradually the noises from the boys' bedroom quieted and I knew that they had fallen asleep against their will. The afternoon was warm and lazy and I sensed when Bella gave into her drowsiness.

Holding her there, the gentle beat of her heart just barely discernable through her garments, I let my hands roam a bit. I explored the curve of her waist, nipped in by her corset. I would suggest that all her corsets be thrown out with the rubbish when we returned home. Well, except maybe for one that she could wear for me some nights along with stockings with daring bows at the back of her knees and some delicate feminine shoes that would show off the elegant line of her legs. I somehow knew her legs would be long and slim, white and soft and just waiting for my touch.

I opened my legs so that she was resting between them, a move which did nothing for my tenuous control, but I did not care. Daringly, I cupped one buttock and she shifted against me. The feeling was glorious torment and it took every ounce of my will not to thrust my hips against her movement.

She slept on, oblivious to my dilemma, but I savored the feeling of her in my arms, resting against me. "Soon," I whispered, placing a kiss against her temple.

Stirring, she shifted yet again. "Edward," she murmured and I could not help but smile.

"Yes, sweetheart, Edward," I agreed and she gave a soft sigh and slept on.

**~AYW~**

Bella was fussing over her hair and I was wrangling the boys. Tonight was the soiree which had all of her friends talking. Her friends had filled her in on all the details when I had taken the boys outside. It was reputed to be "the" event of the year. I could tell that Bella was less than interested in attending, but since we would be leaving town next week, this would most likely be the only large social function we could attend.

"Besides," she had said coquettishly, looking at me over her shoulder as she adjusted a hair pin in the silken mass. "I am looking forward very much to showing off my future husband."

I laughed at her bluntness. "It is very gratifying to know that I have proven worthy of such a thing."

She looked into the mirror one more time and then turned to me and adjusted my tie and collar. "You're quite handsome, Mr. Masen, and I'm sure that all of the women in town tonight will be simply green with envy." She smiled smugly. "But you are mine...all mine."

"I was not aware of this possessive streak in you, Isabella Black," I teased.

Tilting her head, she studied me for a moment. "Oddly, neither was I."

That was a compliment that surely made a man's ego – along with other things – swell, so I decided it was time to get us on the road. I cleared my throat and she laughed huskily, which did nothing to help matters. Sometimes, I cursed the fact that my mother had raised me to treat a lady as she deserved.

_Once we are married..._I promised myself.

The boys are going with us, but would not attend the party. A servant would watch the children of the attendees, and Bella had issued several stern warnings to the boys about their behavior. I had stood behind her and looked appropriately solemn and stern. They had looked earnest and humble and subdued.

I had no doubt that they would cause chaos within an hour of stepping foot into the place.

~**AYW~**

Our hired carriage brought us to the entrance of the house, where gas lights lent a subtle glow to the scene. I leaned in and whispered. "I forgot to ask, what is our host's name?"

"We're visiting the Collins' family," she told him. "I think," she amended and I had to grin at her. She had confessed that she had only been listening with half an ear when Mimi rambled on. Mimi had a tendency to speak a great many words without saying anything of import, as Bella said.

Our carriage came to a halt and the boys pushed and shoved each other to get to the door first. I settled a look on them that had them scrambling back for their seats and making a path for their mother. I nodded and gave them an approving smile.

A servant waited to give Bella a hand and then I exited so that I might make sure the boys were up to no mischief – that I could ascertain anyway. Another servant waited to take the boys around to the side of the house, where I could already hear the excited voices of children. Excellent, I thought. Perhaps they would tire the boys out completely.

We made our way up the path in what was apparently a lull in between arrivals. I was looking down at Bella as we made our way up the steps. Mourning dictated that she wear black, but I had gotten a glimpse of her chemise earlier in the evening and I could well imagine what she looked like beneath the severe gown.

I thought of little else, truth be told.

Then we were approaching our hosts and the lights shone brightly behind them, briefly blinding me. It was not until I heard them greet us that I began to grasp the impact of the moment. I lifted my eyes and gazed at a face as familiar to me as my own.

The woman stared at me, her hand over her mouth, her eyes bright with tears. To the shock of every guest there, she pulled me into a fierce embrace. I felt Bella's bewilderment, saw the clamping of my father's jaw, was only vaguely aware of the figures shifting behind them.

"Edward," the woman finally said as she pulled back.

I could not help but smile at her, for she had been the first – until recently, the _only_ – woman I had ever loved.

"Mother," I said as I wiped her tears away.


	14. Chapter 14

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**XIV**

_**Edward's POV**_

We all stood there for a long moment, the silence growing uncomfortable and then decidedly strained. I finally looked around and noticed the others. I gave my father a stiff nod of my head, which he returned with a rather dazed look upon his face. I became aware of Isabella at my side, her hand clutching at mine in bewilderment.

There was Emmett...and Rose. Her eyes met mine and I saw compassion and understanding in them. Hardly aware of Jasper and the dark-haired woman at his side, I embraced Rosalie when she approached. She stood up on her toes and whispered, "You once did me a great kindness. Thank you, and I hope I can help you now, too."

Then she stepped back and gave a trilling laugh as if I had told her the most amusing joke in the world. "Well, Alice," she said to the small dark-haired woman at my brother Jasper's side. "It looks as if our surprise worked!"

Alice seemed to catch on instantly and she gave a little clap of her hands in enthusiastic delight. She turned to the assembled guests, who were starting to ascertain that something unusual had happened and gave them a gracious smile. "My husband Jasper and I will continue to entertain you, but I hope you understand that the rest of our family would like to enjoy their surprise reunion."

With those few words, I felt Emmett behind me, ushering us all – Father, Mother, Isabella, Rose, and I – toward another room. I was helpless to fight him and not sure if I wanted to in any case. How often had I dreamed of seeing my family again? But could I have them back and still keep Isabella in my life? I glanced at Bella, hoping that she would forgive me for my deception, my duplicity.

Her expression was strained and confused, but not angry – at least not yet.

The door closed behind us and I noticed we were in a study. My mother approached me once more and cradled my face in her hands. "Edward, I've missed you so," she murmured. Her fingers traced over my cheekbones and then she stepped away to study me. "You've been out in the sun," she observed. She tilted her head and pinned me beneath her sharp, green gaze before letting her eyes shift to Bella. "I think we have a lot to discuss."

An understatement of vast proportions indeed.

I shifted on my feet. "Mother, what are you doing in Pennsylvania?" That was my first question. They were supposed to be safely at home in New York. If I had had any inkling that they were here, I would have... I sighed, knowing that I would still have wanted to accompany Bella and the boys.

Mother's eyes moved back to me while Father remained curiously silent in the background. Due to the shadows, I could not see his expression, but I could only guess at the anger that must be glittering in his eyes at the moment. We had not parted on the best of terms, and he could hardly be happy to see the prodigal son returned.

"Well, Edward, I could ask you the same question," Mother said gently.

I took a deep breath and tugged at Isabella's hand. Bella might refute my statement, but if she did then I would just beg and plead myself back into her good graces. "Mother, Father...this is Bella Black, the woman I intend to marry."

I waited for Bella to pull her hand from mine or to gasp out an indignant refutation. Instead, her fingers tightened around mine and I took that as a good sign.

To my shock, it was my father who stepped forward and embraced Bella first. "Welcome to the family, my dear," he said quietly. "We're not usually so...dramatic," he added dryly. If it had not been beyond the realm of possibility, I would have said I heard laughter in his voice.

But no, that was not possible. Father did not have a sense of humor about such things. Ever.

"Why are you here?" I asked again.

"Well, if you must know, I had learned that a woman – a friend from long ago actually - I went to school with recently passed away and we had come to make sure that her affairs were taken care of and that her daughter was not left destitute, but the daughter is long gone, to the west, God forbid, and Rose wasn't feeling well, so we rented a house for the season and decided to stay for a bit rather than travel while Rose is under the weather." I glanced at Rose, who looked absolutely radiant to me.

"I'm better now," Rose explained and her hand fell to her abdomen in that gesture that was universally recognized to indicate a woman was with child, a topic that was not meant for polite conversation.

"Ah," I said. Then a thought occurred to me. "What was the name of this friend?"

"Oh, you never knew her," Mother replied. "We both went to the same finishing school, Mrs. Bartram's Academy, but she moved to Pennsylvania years ago when she married. We kept up correspondence for a while, but as so often happens we lost touch eventually." Mother sighed and shook her head. "I would never have known except the mayor's wife also attended the school and mentioned something in a letter. Eventually, I discovered that the woman Mrs. Paulson was discussing was in fact the girl I went to school with and I knew she had a daughter. You might not believe this, but when you were quite young, my friend and I even used to discuss marrying you to her daughter if you suited. But of course, that came to naught and things happened and well...here we are in any case."

My mother's tendency to nurture, mother, and coddle everyone in her sphere was well known. I imagined that my father had argued with her for a few moments and then surrendered to her indomitable but tender-hearted will. "The name of the friend?" I pressed, checking a smile at my mother's rather rambling and typical answer.

"Oh, I didn't answer your question, did I?" Mother said with a little laugh. "Well her name when I knew her was Renee Robertson, but she married a Charles Swan and-"

At my side, Isabella burst into giggles. My own laughter wanted desperately to be set free, but I knew I had to set some things straight first. "Mother, meet Renee's daughter, Isabella." I lifted Bella's hand and kissed it. "It seems that you and your friend Renee will get your wish after all." Hopefully.

Rose began laughing then too, and to my great shock, my father's large booming laugh soon overshadowed us all. It was from him that Emmett had inherited the laughter that shook the rafters, though we heard Father's rather less often. After the laughter finally died, and we stood there awkwardly, Father finally stepped forward and approached me.

My hand tightened around Isabella's and I was quite sure she felt the heat and dampness of my palm. "Son," he said in a husky voice. "I've missed you."

Nothing my father said could have surprised me more and the next thing I knew I was enfolded into his familiar embrace, inhaling the scent of pipe smoke and peppermint that was a constant from my childhood. When he pulled away, Father looked at Rose and smiled. "When you left, I was angry," he admitted. "But Rose...Rosalie came to me and told me why you left and that you had done it so she would be happy."

I could sense Bella's confusion and I knew that a full confession was needed immediately. I could only hope she would still consent to be my wife when she heard it. Rosalie came forward, obviously ready to reveal her part in the story.

"Hello, Isabella," she said warmly, embracing Bella closely. "You're marrying the most wonderful man, you should know that." Then Rose stepped back and into Emmett's arms. "You see Edward left the family for my sake."

Emmett spoke for the first time, clearing his throat and then looking at Bella as he explained. "See, Edward here is the oldest son, and Rosie's father...well he had a bee in his bonnet that his Rosie would only marry the oldest, the heir."

"But Edward and I..." Rose shook her head and laughed. "We didn't suit, not at all, certainly not as husband and wife."

"But you couldn't tell Ulysses Hale anything, much less that his only child was going to marry the younger son and not the oldest, and Rosie here was a good enough daughter that she would have gone along with it," Emmett added with a shake of his head.

"My father was quite ill," Rose added. "And I couldn't bear to break his heart by following my own." She glanced up at Emmett. "So I let things proceed, though it made me desperately unhappy." Rose looked at me. "But Edward was as miserable as I was, and far more courageous, and so he left – so that I could be happy."

"My brother sacrificed his own happiness so that Rose and I could be together," Emmett said. "It's a debt I can never repay," he added gruffly.

"My son, you see," Father chimed in. "Was under the mistaken impression that I was too _old_ and set in my ways to understand love." He shot me a severe look. "It's true, I harped on the concepts of honor and duty while they were growing up, but I would certainly never have wanted him to be unhappy." His shoulders drooped. "If you had told me that you knew Rose loved Emmett and he loved her, I would have relented, Edward. But I thought you were merely reluctant to settle down and give up your bachelor status. I would have..." He sighed. "I wish you would have told me, Edward. We could have worked it out to everyone's satisfaction."

I felt ashamed at how I'd misread my father, and how quickly I had abandoned them all. Still, I thought, it had brought me untold happiness. Unless Isabella couldn't live with a man who had done what I had done.

"But what my stubborn son didn't realize is," Mother grabbed Father's hand, "that his father and I married over parental objections as well, and we would have honored his feelings on the matter. Still, Rose was able to marry Emmett with her father's blessing before he died, and I know that meant a lot to her."

"We tried to find you, Edward," Father added. "We tried very hard, but you were always so damnably clever...and pig-headed." I had to laugh at that, because Father and I had butted heads countless times over the years. I had gotten my stubborn streak from him and well he knew it.

I turned to Bella, taking both of her hands in mine. "The long and short of it is that I left my family, Bella. I left them because I could not bear to marry where my heart was not engaged. You have claimed me, love, you have put your mark on my heart and it is there forever. If you'll still have me, I would be very honored to call myself your husband."

Bella was silent for a long moment, much too long. Her teeth worried at her lower lip as her eyes drifted from my parents to Emmett and Rosalie and then back to me. She looked up at me with all solemnity. "You did tell me once that you would reveal your secrets to me." She smiled at my mother and my heart clenched with hope. "I suppose this is as good a way as any to learn them." She pulled my hands to her lips and pressed tender kisses to them. "But I must know...what will our last name truly be?"

Then she smiled and I knew all was forgiven and right.


End file.
